


That Unwanted Animal

by Bardling



Series: Itheus of Willowhain [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dom/sub, Dominant Eskel (The Witcher), Eventual Smut, First Time, Fivesome - M/M/M/M/M, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gay Disaster Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Getting Together, Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Magic, Mentioned Aiden (The Witcher), Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Pet Names, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Lambert (The Witcher), Protective Vesemir (The Witcher), Switch Jaskier | Dandelion, Switch Lambert (The Witcher), Threesome - M/M/M, Top Eskel (The Witcher), Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Trans Male Character, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardling/pseuds/Bardling
Summary: Sometimes, Geralt wonders if the gods like toying with him. He just wanted to enjoy an easy day of shopping in Novigrad with his bard. But no, when is anything in his life ever easy?Instead of an easy day of shopping, Geralt has to thwart an assassination attempt while keeping Jaskier out harms way.Only... something about this "assassin" is off. If the two familiar swords strapped to his back didn't set Geralt off, the unmistakable shade of amber definitely did.Was it all a misunderstanding, or was it destiny? That's something Geralt will have to figure out as a navigates through love, battle, life, and a volatile young Witcher.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Original Male Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Male Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion & Original Male Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s), Lambert (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Itheus of Willowhain [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080650
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. The Wolf, the Songbird, and the Peony

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This fic is titled after the song That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil.
> 
> This fic is related to my other one, The Witcher of Willowhain, but both can be ready by themselves! This one is Geralt and Jaskier POV-centric and has quite a few differences. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3

**1250**

**Geralt**

Geralt and Jaskier have been travelling together for ten years now, although it feels like far longer to Geralt and far less to his bard. Jaskier always tells him it’s because he’s been a lone wolf for so long and just isn’t used to company.

He’s right. Not that he’ll ever tell Jaskier that. The admission would go straight to his head, and the last thing Geralt needs is for his bard’s ego to be even more inflated.

Despite his cold and stony outward appearance, Geralt has grown quite fond of Jaskier. Okay, maybe fond is an understatement. They have been… er, romantically involved for four years now after all. 

One of the many things that he appreciates about Jaskier is that he never judges or makes fun of him for not being as  _ eloquent _ with his emotions as people should be. Jaskier never gets mad at him for being hesitant to say that they’re  _ dating _ . He just smiles and nods and accepts that regardless of what word Geralt uses to describe their relationship, he’s the bard’s Witcher and the bard is his.

And actually, his bard is the reason they are out doing one of the things Geralt absolutely detests.  _ Shopping _ . Jaskier has been begging him for weeks to go to Novigrad. 

“Please Geralt! Oh please can we go to the shops in Novigrad?” He had pleaded the first time Geralt declined, saying it was too far out of the way.

Geralt thought Jaskier had taken no as an answer for once, which was honestly his mistake. 

“Geralllttt.” The bard whined three days later. “Can we please go to Novigrad? I haven’t been shopping in ages!” Geralt told him no again, because they didn’t have nearly enough coin for Jaskier’s tastes. 

His companion only got more irritated and persistent after that. “I think my songs would make us more money if I had new lute strings… if only  _ someone  _ would take me shopping.” Jaskier said to him in a tavern after a particularly fruitless night.

“All of my clothes are so old and frayed. And stained.” He said the last bit with a grimace, flicking a speck of monster entrails off of his doublet. “I’d look far more dashing if I had new ones.” He said the last time as they had just finished a particularly long hunt.

“Hmm.” Geralt had grumbled. “Fine. But only because our coin bag is weighing Roach down and I need to restock ingredients for potions.” He said with a defeated sigh. Even if he delays the gratification, he always ends up giving his bard what he wants. 

“Oh thank you, my Witcher! How generous you are.” Jaskier had cooed, grabbing Geralt by the face and kissing his cheek despite it being covered in dirt and sweat.

Now, as they walk the crowded streets of Novigrad, Geralt starts to regret his generosity. Just a little. He hates being around people that aren’t Jaskier already, and being shoulder to shoulder with people on a street lined with merchants certainly is not helping.

“What exactly are you wanting to buy, Jaskier?” Geralt asks as he tries to keep his hand from instinctively twitching towards his dagger when someone gets too loud or too close. 

“I am so glad you asked, my dear. New lute strings, firstly. Secondly, I would like to get a couple new outfits to perform in. Closely tailored and very colorful. Short sleeve since it’s almost summer. Thirdly, I would like to go to the apothecary and replenish our… well, our lube supply. Fourthly… I haven’t decided, but I’ve got time.” Jaskier says, holding fingers up with each shopping request (demand). 

“Right. New strings. You should probably restock on linseed oil too.” Geralt says, knowing his bard is running low. “Hmm.” He says, amused. “Apothecary already? I think a little lark has been using our lube when I’m away.” Jaskier blushes at that, but doesn’t confirm or deny. “But that’s fine. I need to get potion ingredients from there anyway.” Geralt says, already turning in the direction of the apothecary. 

“I- Geralt! Wait for me!” Jaskier calls out, jogging to catch up with his impatient Witcher.

Geralt, to his credit, isn’t actually walking that fast. Jaskier is just a flair for the dramatic. Regardless, he slows down and waits until Jaskier is by his side again. Geralt opens the door to the apothecary shop and grunts as he has to twist to fit inside the small door frame. 

“Geralt! Jaskier!” A middle aged woman with graying chestnut hair calls out to them cheerfully. “It’s so good to see you! How can I help you?” She asks.

“Mar! It’s good to see you too!” Jaskier says, darting to kiss her on the cheek. 

Geralt follows closely beside Jaskier and gives Mara a small wave. “Hi Mara, it’s good to see you as well. We’d like a full-list restock, please. The last few hunts have gravely depleted our supply.” He says, giving Jaskier a knowing look about the lube. They’ll discuss it later.

“A full restock?” She asks to clarify, glancing up at Geralt and then at her neatly organized shelves. “It’ll take me a few hours to have everything prepared. I only have some things readily available, the others I’ll have to mix up. Is that okay?” 

Geralt gives her an assuring nod and is about to speak, but is interrupted by Jaskier. “That’s more than okay! We have loads of other shopping to do, so we can pick it up after that.” He says, giving her a bright smile. 

“Right. What he said.” Geralt says, rolling his eyes at his giddy bard. He barely gets all the words out before Jaskier is taking his hand and dragging him towards the door. “Alright, Jaskier! I’m going, I’m going!” He grumbles, following the brunette out the door.

Jaskier giggles as he drags Geralt along. “We have to go to the music shop next! It’s a street over, c’mon.” He says, tugging Geralt’s hand again. 

“If you keep yanking on my hand like that, you’re going to rip it off.” Geralt complains, but doesn’t retract his hand. He likes being able to keep track of his bard in crowded places, sue him.

Jaskier scoffs and shakes his head fondly. “If that drowner that yanked on your arm didn’t rip it off, I highly doubt my delicate lute playing self is going to rip your hand off.” He says, but stops pulling Geralt forward and instead stands by his side, still holding his hand.

Geralt chuckles internally at how Jaskier only calls himself ‘delicate’ whenever it suits him. That man is both the most delicate, but the most strong creature Geralt has ever met. 

He gives the bard a fond look and guides them both down an alley to get to the next street, thankful that the alley is empty and he gets the short break from the crowd.

Luckily for Geralt, the street that the music shop lies on isn’t as busy as the main stretch. It’s still too crowded for his liking, but at least he isn’t bumping into anyone now. He follows Jaskier into the shop and makes an effort to keep all of his appendages to himself.

This shop is much more cluttered than Mara’s perfectly organized apothecary, which is another thing he admires about her. Despite his best efforts, when Geralt follows Jaskier to the counter, his swords still knock a set of tambourines off of a shelf. 

Geralt’s reflexes are quick and he catches them before they hit the ground, but the shop owner still glares at him. The man points to a sign that reads, ‘You break it, you buy it.’ 

Geralt puts the tambourines back on the shelf and looks at him apologetically.

Jaskier turns to face Geralt. “You don’t have to stay in here with me. I know it’s a bit… small. You can wait outside, dear. I’ll be quick.” He says, giving him that smile that he only uses on Geralt. 

The Witcher nods appreciatively and exits the shop without knocking anything else over, thank gods. Geralt stands outside and sticks out like a sore, snowy white thumb. Everyone else perusing the shops are dressed in colorful, flowy, elegantly embroidered clothing, or some combination of the three.

Geralt on the other hand, is dressed in black leather pants and armor with two swords strapped to his back.

It doesn’t bother him, standing out like this. But he does notice it.

Something else he notices the longer he stands outside, is the sense of something being  _ off.  _ He can’t tell what it is besides maybe him just being paranoid. There’s no monsters that he can see, or smell for that matter. The only thing he smells is the mingling scent of people with too much money.

Novigrad is the place for that. It’s not low-quality or cheap by any means. Maybe that’s part of why Geralt hates shopping here. The rich regulars always smell of privilege and pretentiousness. 

Geralt doesn’t have enough time to really scout the area for a threat before Jaskier is exiting the shop with his bag of lute strings and bottle of linseed oil. “Geralt darling, I have returned.” He announces grandly, putting his newly purchased items into his bag. 

“Hmm.” Geralt says in acknowledgement, but his brows are furrowed when the off feeling doesn’t subside.

“You’ve got that look on your face. Is something wrong?” Jaskier asks, moving in front of him and looking up at him. 

“I… can’t tell. Something feels off, but I don’t sense anything nearby.” Geralt says, looking up and down the street. His amber eyes are calculating, inspecting.

“Well if you don’t sense anything, then it’s probably nothing!” Jaskier chirps, then starts walking in the direction of his favorite clothing store. Geralt sighs and follows him, but stays alert. 

The clothing shop is a few streets over, so it’s a bit of a walk. They slip down another alley, but this time Geralt stops in his tracks. “Jaskier stop.” He says, then sniffs the air and looks around.

The bard stops and looks at the Witcher quizzically. “You know it’s damn creepy when you do that, right?” He asks rhetorically. Geralt says nothing and just holds his hand up to hush Jaskier.

“Charcoal.” Geralt says gravelly, then tenses where he stands. “And static.” He adds, his amber eyes darting back and forth. Seconds after the words leave his mouth, his medallion starts burning fiercely against his chest. He doesn’t react despite the pain. There’s strong magic nearby. Not only can his medallion detect it, but he can  _ sense  _ it. 

Jaskier sees the medallion start to glow and his expression shifts. “Geralt? Should I be worried?” He asks, scanning Geralt’s face for any signs.

Geralt takes a more defensive stance. “Jaskier get back!” He growls protectively, and in perfect timing. Just as Jaskier scrambles backwards, a hooded figure jumps from the roof and lands in front of Geralt. Before he can draw his sword, he’s hit with a spell that slams him back against the wall. 

It knocks him off kilter for only a second. His instincts are in full swing now. He quickly draws his sword and charges at the attacker. His blow is quickly blocked and rebounded. Geralt dodges a strike that surely would have pierced his leg. “Definitely not nothing!” Jaskier shrieks, wishing he could do something to help.

Geralt blocks a particularly strong slash, but fails to dodge the spell that knocks his feet from under him. He regains his footing quickly, but then there’s a sword in his face. He tries to jump backwards, but his back hits the brick wall again. 

Geralt realizes that this person, whoever they are, has all intentions to kill him. He casts Aard, which knocks the figure back and makes them drop their sword. He growls and charges again, landing a forceful punch to their abdomen. The stranger lets out a hiss of pain. They falter and take too long to block, then try to land a kick that Geralt easily blocks. Whoever or whatever this figure is, they’re strong. Geralt will give them that. Not many humans or humanoid creatures can take a punch like that from a Witcher and be able to keep fighting. 

Geralt catches their hand with his own and sweeps their legs from under them, causing them to grunt as they hit the cobblestone ground. He casts Yrden just to be safe and pins the subdued attacker down. 

“It’s safe now, Jaskier. You can come back.” Geralt calls out, watching as his bard quickly runs back to his side. 

“Who and what the hell is this? It tried to kill you!” Jaskier shouts, staring down at the pinned stranger. 

“Good question. Let’s find out.” Geralt grunts, then yanks the black hood back to reveal their face. The sight he is met with is not one he was expecting. He expected this would-be assailant to be a scruffy, middle aged assassin. But instead it’s a  _ boy _ . Well, he looks like a boy compared to Geralt. The boy thrashes and growls, trying to escape Geralt’s grasp. It’s no match for the Master Witcher’s strength.

“What the fuck?” Geralt says in utter confusion. This boy is a sight he has never seen. Skin so pale it’s only rivalled by his own. Raven black hair with a pure white streak in the front. But the most shocking discovery is, perhaps, the boy’s eyes. His left is a bright emerald green. But the right… the right is a very specific, unmistakable golden amber shade. And they’re looking up at him in utter terror.

Jaskier stares at the man, befuddled. “Itheus?” He calls out, squinting at him in disbelief. 

Geralt’s head whips towards the bard. “You know him??” He growls. Geralt and Jaskier both go to speak, but they’re interrupted by a soft whisper. 

“You’re a Witcher.” The boy, Itheus, says quietly. His eyes flick from Geralt’s medallion back to his face. The wolf medallion is dangling from Geralt’s chest.

Jaskier scoffs beside him and pipes up. “He’s not just  _ a _ Witcher, he’s  _ the  _ Witcher! Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf. Honestly, how did you not know this?” He says, moderately offended  _ for  _ Geralt.

“Hush, Jaskier.” Geralt says seriously, which makes Jaskier shut his mouth reluctantly. “Who and  _ what  _ are you, boy?” He asks, looking down at him. 

“I’m Itheus of Willowhain. Sorcerer, Witcher, quarter-elf. But I am no boy.” He says, his chest heaving as his heart rate and breathing speeds up. He’s panicking, Geralt realizes. Their surroundings start to shake as Itheus’s panic increases. 

“You? A Witcher? Perhaps a  _ Witchling _ . You’re so small and cute!” Jaskier says with a hearty laugh. He couldn’t help himself.

Geralt glares at him. “You shouldn’t anger him, bard.” He cautions. Jaskier is right about the small part, though. And perhaps the cute part as well. Itheus is tiny, even smaller than Jaskier. His wrists are so bony that if he hadn’t watched Itheus take a punch from him and not fall, he’d be worried about crushing the one in his hand. 

He’s young, too. Based on looks alone, Geralt would guess he’s younger than Jaskier as well. Around eighteen or so. His nose is small and reminds him somewhat of a fairy. His lips are full and pink, not unlike Jaskier’s. His face is smooth, not a trace of hair to be seen.

“Why, what is he going to do? He can’t even reach my-” Jaskier is cut off by a dagger flying between his legs. The hand by Itheus’s thigh must have thrown it. “Fair point.”

Geralt sighs and grabs the hand that threw the dagger, pinning that one down as well. “If you  _ are _ a Witcher, would you mind telling me why the fuck you just tried to kill me?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at Itheus.

“I- I didn’t know you were- if I had known, I would never have taken the contract!” Itheus says. Geralt studies his expression and he seems to be telling the truth. “Five years ago, I was confronted by a man as I was leaving Oxenfurt. I was sent there to do a job that turned out to be a lie. The headmaster wanted me to kill a ‘man’ for him. I told him I don’t take contracts on humans. He agreed to up the pay if I just scared him into not saying anything. I agreed.” 

He takes a breath and looks away from Geralt’s gaze. “When I got there, there was no man. It was just a little boy. I needed to know what this boy knew that the headmaster wanted him  _ murdered  _ for and it turned out that-” Itheus swallows. “That he had been hurting the boy in the worst ways imaginable. I got angry and carried away and I… I killed the headmaster. I burned his house down when I left.” He admits, but there’s not a single drop of pride in his voice. Only  _ remorse. _

Geralt listens to Itheus intently, his eyebrows furrowing. Something peculiar stands out about this recollection.  _ He got carried away by emotions? _ Geralt thinks to himself. Witchers don’t do that. They’re literally bred not to.

“What does this have to do with me?” Geralt asks, trying to get the boy to talk more.

“After I left his house, when I was right outside the gates of Oxenfurt… this man stopped me. He was wearing a cloak that covered his face, so I don’t know what he looked like. He told me that he had a real job for me, one that would pay more money than I could even imagine. He said there was a monster going around the Continent, massacring kingdoms and towns. He said I would know the beast by its pale skin and white hair. He said the beast was named Geralt of Rivia.” Itheus explains, looking from Geralt to Jaskier and then away again. 

“I heard mentions of a White Wolf in several towns, so I assumed that’s what the man was talking about. I got wind of you coming to Novigrad and tracked you here. I swear, I did not know that you are a Witcher.” His voice is more desperate now, still scared. 

Geralt is silent for a moment as he mulls over Itheus’s words. They only bring about more questions. But, Geralt never gets even a whiff of the sour smell of dishonesty. 

“He’s telling the truth.” Geralt says aloud, mostly to Jaskier. “But I have more questions I need to ask him.” He adds, unpinning Itheus and standing up. He drops the spell and allows the boy to get up.

“Oh cool, right. Great! Let’s let the homicidal Witchling come along with us.” Jaskier complains, staying close to Geralt. Itheus glares at Jaskier and summons his dagger back into his thigh sheath.

“Jaskier, behave.” Geralt commands, then turns to Itheus. “We’re going to go somewhere quieter, outside the city. I have many questions. If you so much as leave a scratch on my bard, I won’t be as forgiving as I just was.” He says, his voice low and serious.

Itheus looks up at Geralt and nods in understanding. Now that they’re all standing, the difference in heights is even more noticeable. Itheus is a good three or so inches shorter than Jaskier, and half a foot shorter than Geralt himself. 

Geralt sniffs to take in Itheus’s scent, commit it to memory in case he ever needs to know it. He smells of peony and rosewater with swirls of charcoal and musk. Not an unpleasant scent, Geralt notes.

After gathering his weapons and confiscating Itheus’s, Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand and starts walking. He makes Itheus walk in front of them so he can make sure he doesn’t run off. They exit the bounds of Novigrad and return to the secure area Geralt has left Roach to graze while they shopped.

Geralt grabs his water pouch and a few other things from Roach’s pack. “Sit.” He says to Itheus, gesturing to the camp area. Itheus sits and stares at his boots.

Looking at the way the boy is dressed, Geralt understands more. He’s further convinced that Itheus is telling the truth about being a Witcher (or at least a Witchling) and the contract he took. The raven haired man is wearing midnight blue and black armor. It’s clearly made to fit a more dexterous and flexible fighter, which someone that small would have to be.

Geralt sits across from Itheus with Jaskier close beside him.

“First.” Geralt says, thinking of how to phrase his question. “You said you are not a boy, but you look everything like a Witchling who ran off before he was ready. Your hand to hand is shit and even though you had many chances to use the Signs, you did not. So how are you  _ not _ a boy?” He asks, looking at Itheus intently.

Itheus glances up and sighs. “I’m not a  _ boy _ , because I’m older than your bard, for starters.” He says, his jaw flexing in irritation. He hates when people assume he’s a trainee. “I’m almost thirty, if not older. I just… look younger. You know how it is.” He says, looking directly at Geralt.

It’s true, Geralt does know. He’s eighty two, but looks as though he’s in his thirties still. 

“A mix of the transformation I underwent when I became a sorcerer and the mutagens means I age even slower than you do.” Itheus continues, “And I’m not a Witchling. I completed all of the trials.  _ And extra ones. _ ” The last part is whispered so quietly that Geralt only hears it because of his enhanced hearing.

“Hmm.” Geralt says (*thinking). “That leads to my second question. How are you a sorcerer  _ and  _ a Witcher? It’s unheard of, thought to be impossible. And why did you have to go through extra trials?” Geralt has his guess as to why Itheus underwent extra trials, but he wants to hear him say it.

“Well, those answers kind of go hand in hand. I was twelve when I graduated from mage school. My parents dropped me off when I was a baby, because they didn’t know how to teach me. Once I graduated, I returned home. In the ten years I had been gone, my parents had divorced. My father… he blamed me. He couldn’t stand having someone… like me in his home. So less than a month later, he deserted me on the steps of a castle. That’s when my mentor found me. He could sense my power and decided to train me as a Witcher.” Itheus takes a deep breath, his voice wavering.

“At the time, the school had been working on mutagens to make Witchers even less emotional. But they messed up somewhere and accidentally  _ enhanced  _ their emotions. They called us the ‘bad batch.’ I was- I was the only one to survive the Trial of the Grasses. It was because of my magic, my quarter-elf blood. It made me have a tolerance to the mutagens.” Itheus looks down again, unable to meet Geralt’s gaze and keeps talking.

“So they uh- they did more experiments. Stronger ones, longer ones, more painful ones. And that’s why my eyes are… well, like this.” Itheus gestures to his eyes. “That’s also why I have the streak in my hair and why I’m faster, stronger, and more agile than most before me. Well, except for you apparently. I went through the Choice, the Grasses, Dreams, the Mountains, and even the Sword.” 

Geralt listens to Itheus intently, making sure not to interrupt him. A large part of him understands what Itheus has been through, especially with the trials. But he still has a lot of questions.

Jaskier has been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. “Wait, if they did all this extra stuff and you’re supposedly better than most Witchers… why did Geralt say you’re shit at hand to hand combat?” The bard asks, his voice nearing crass. 

Geralt looks at Jaskier, who now has his head on his shoulder. He was about to ask the same question.

“Short answer? Because I am.” Itheus answers, laughing dryly. “In the middle of the Grasses my school was attacked. A group had formed that… did a lot of bad things. The other ones, like my mentor and a few of the older Witchers, started a caravan. They brought me along to finish the trials. Because we didn’t have a home anymore and were constantly moving, my training was very irregular. I was sword trained by the best, but they skipped out on the hand to hand quite a bit.” He explains, his jaw tensing again. He doesn’t like admitting he is bad at things.

“They assumed that with my sword skills and sorcery, I didn’t need to know hand to hand. Or the signs.” Itheus finishes, saying the last three words quietly.

As Itheus talks, realization dons on Geralt. “You’re a Cat.” He says clearly, which makes Itheus’s head snap up. “I’ve only ever heard of one Witcher caravan, and even then it was just whispers.” Geralt says, his eyes reflecting something neither Jaskier nor Itheus can place.

“You… you slaughtered hundreds of people. Hundreds of  _ Wolves. _ You disgraced the Witcher code so badly that you got  _ banned _ from Kaer Morhen. I’ve heard Vesemir talk about the School of the Cat before and your reputation?” Geralt snarls and shakes his head. “You better be glad I never saw your medallion back in the alley. I would’ve killed you in a heartbeat.” Geralt’s tone changes and he stands up, making Jaskier scramble.

“What the hell, Geralt!” Jaskier shouts, shocked at his sudden change in demeanor. “What happened to behaving! Huh? You spare the man and make him spill his entire, painful life story and then threaten to kill him?” Geralt ignores Jaskier’s squawking and stalks off to refill his water flask. 

“Geralt! We are so having this conversation. Don’t run away from me!” Jaskier runs after Geralt, barreling through bushes and ducking tree branches. Finally, Geralt stops stalking away and squats by a stream. Their campsite can’t be seen from this far away.

“He’s a monster, Jaskier!” Geralt growls as he fills the flask up. “Him and the other murderous Cats killed hundreds of humans. They killed my  _ brothers _ . Every single one of them are a disgrace. They’re all better off dead, which is what the rest of us thought they were.” He says, the anger in his voice clear as day. 

“And why didn’t you ever tell me that you met another Witcher before?!” Geralt adds with more of a growl and more volume. Jaskier gives him a look and shakes his head.

“Because I didn’t know he was a Witcher when I met him. I was still in school for gods sake! At that point, Witchers were just stories my mother had told me to make me stay inside when I was a kid.” Jaskier says, trying not to feed into Geralt’s anger. 

“It’s funny though.” Jaskier adds. “Wasn’t it you that everyone used to call a monster? A murderer?  _ The Butcher of Blaviken? _ Yeah, it was. But was any of it true? No, it wasn’t. And the whole Continent would still think that if it weren’t for me, your humble bard.” He says, using a tone that Geralt rarely hears him use. But he knows Jaskier is serious.

“Alright! I get it. What’s your point, Jaskier?” Geralt snaps, feeling his patience grow thin.

“My point, my dear wolf.” Jaskier says, cupping Geralt’s face gently. Geralt lets out a breath, relaxing into Jaskier’s touch.

“Is that he just recounted his past of pain and desertion to us. You said it yourself that he was telling the truth. He isn’t evil, Geralt. And he isn’t a monster either. He’s lonely, misunderstood, and  _ lost. _ Did you see the way he looked at us? I’d go as far as to say that he’s never told anyone the things he shared with us.” The brunette says, and gods Geralt hates it when that man is right. He’s not as ditzy as he makes everyone think, that’s for sure.

“He doesn’t need death, Geralt. He needs guidance. He needs  _ companions _ . You would know better than anyone how dangerous a Witcher can get to himself and others when he isn’t properly trained. Add magic into the mix and well, I can only imagine…” Jaskier mimes an explosion with his hands.

“Hmm.” Geralt says (*Fuck, you’re right). 

Geralt closes his water flask and walks back to the camp without another word. He knows Jaskier is close behind him by the sounds of his boots, otherwise he wouldn’t have walked off.

Much to his surprise, Itheus is still sitting where they left him. 

“Jaskier is right, Geralt. You both are, in a way.” Itheus says, his arms wrapped around himself. Geralt watches him closely. 

_ He looks even smaller like that. _ Geralt thinks to himself. And gods, he’s fifty years older than Itheus. Compared to him, he  _ is  _ a Witchling.

“I’ve never told anyone what I told you two. Quite honestly, this is the most conversation I’ve had with anyone since I left the Caravan over ten years ago. It’s just been me and my horse Ivy on the Path since I left.” Itheus says, kicking at the dirt a little. “And yes, the Cats did massacre the king’s men and they did kill a lot of Wolves.” Geralt tenses at these words, his jaw clenching.

“But that was long before me. I don’t know the exact year I was born, but it was around 1218. I started the trials when I was twelve. There is no possible way I could have had any involvement. I’m not like them. My mentor didn’t even know about Treyse’s plot against the Wolves. I don’t kill humans like they did.” Itheus says, his whole body tense and slightly shaking. 

Geralt can smell his emotions wafting off of him. Not only that, but he can  _ feel _ them. They’re intense, and likely overwhelming for the younger Witcher. The sadness and anger swirling in Itheus’s scent is new ground for Geralt’s senses. He doesn’t expect what happens next.

Itheus looks over at Geralt and Jaskier and he’s  _ crying. _ “I’ve only ever killed one Witcher, and even then I didn’t want to.” He starts, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “He called for the Trial of the Sword. He said I wasn’t worthy because I was too small. Because I didn’t know the signs. Because I wasn’t trained in hand to hand.”

“I didn’t want to, but they made me. It’s a ritual duel of life and death. And I won.” He says, no longer crying but still breathing hard. 

Jaskier is frozen in place with his mouth slightly agape. He didn’t even know Witchers  _ could _ cry. Geralt, being one himself, knows that Witchers  _ can _ cry, it’s just very hard for them to. That being said, he’s never actually seen a Witcher cry. Until today.

Geralt sits down beside Itheus, which causes him to jump. “That wasn’t your fault.” He says calmly. Jaskier watches with a soft smile as Geralt takes his advice (for once). “What was his name? The Master Witcher who initiated the Swords?” Geralt asks, turning to look at the boy. 

“Schrödinger.” Itheus answers, his breathing still ragged but starting to calm.

“Itheus, Schrödinger knew what might happen when he initiated the trial. He knew there was a chance that you would win, and he called it anyway. He was wrong. And that isn’t your fault.” Geralt explains, unsure of where he’s even finding the words to say all of this. He blames Jaskier’s poetic persuasion. 

“Never apologize for being better at something than someone else.” Jaskier chimes in after securing his messenger bag in Roach’s pack.  _ Sometimes he’s very wise beyond his years.  _ Geralt thinks, then remembers the time Jaskier accidentally set his pants on fire by trying to perform a spell he stole.  _ Other times, he’s an idiot. _

“I should have known that you weren’t involved when you said you’re almost thirty. You were far too young. I lost brothers in that incident and I let that get the best of me for a moment. I misjudged you.” Geralt says, then offers Itheus his flask. The younger takes it tentatively.

“Geralt and I have some things we need to pick up from the shops still, but we will be back. We’re going to help you. Plus, two Witchers on a hunt are always better than one.” Jaskier says cheerily, giving Itheus a small smile.

_ The songbird really does have the kindest heart. _ Geralt thinks, feeling a warmth in his chest.

“Stay here with Roach and rest. Drink some water. You used a lot of energy back in the alley.” Geralt says. His tone is curt and impersonal, but Jaskier knows Geralt wouldn’t leave Roach with someone he didn’t trust.

Jaskier and Geralt turn and start walking back to the shops, but Jaskier stops mid step. “Can we get Ivy from the stables for you?” He shouts to Itheus, his head cocked to the side.

“I’d appreciate that a lot, actually!” Itheus yells back with a small smile tugging at his lips. 

Geralt shakes his head at Jaskier’s excessive generosity, even though he’d never wish for the bard to change. 

“What? Every Witcher needs a bit of kindness in their lives.” Jaskier says, looking at Geralt knowingly. Geralt rolls his eyes fondly. “Especially cute, feral little buggers like him.” He adds with a chuckle.

“He is a feral little shit, that’s for sure. I think he got a few good slices in on me.” Geralt laughs. It’s true, Itheus got him good with his sword a few times. “Before you freak out, I’m fine. ‘Tis merely a flesh wound and I’m already healing.” He says to Jaskier before his bard has time to yell at him for not telling him he got hurt

“Fine, fine. But let’s hurry so we can get back and get a fire started. Since  _ someone  _ said the inns in Novigrad were too expensive and camping was more cost effective.” Jaskier half whines.

“You asked to shop here, not to stay the night. Maybe if you were better at using your words and asking me for what you want, I would have said yes.” Geralt says, using the tone that makes Jaskier blush every time. 

“But yes, it would be best to hurry. We have a long journey to plan out.”


	2. What the Future Holds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt warns Itheus of the danger that is likely to come, especially if they are to travel together.
> 
> Geralt confides in Jaskier about his worries.
> 
> Itheus is keeping secrets and starts to have doubts about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has so many feelings. All the feelings!  
> Poor Geralt is so confused, and Jaskier always seems to know what to say.
> 
> Itheus just wants to belong, but the poor boy has only ever known loneliness. 
> 
> Maybe... just maybe this is the beginning of a different chapter in all of their lives.

**Jaskier and Geralt**

When Jaskier and Geralt return to their camp with a multitude of bags and Ivy’s lead in hand, they find Itheus standing next to Roach with a brush in his hand. Geralt tenses and lunges forward out of instinct, worried that Roach is going to be hurt.

Geralt stops when Jaskier puts a hand on his arm. “Roach is fine. Listen.” The bard says, gesturing to the pair.

Indeed, Roach is more than fine. In fact, she actually looks quite content. Itheus talks to her as he brushes out the rest of her mane. “She says she’d like to be fed apples more often, specifically green ones. They’re her favorite.” He says to Jaskier and Geralt, continuing to brush Roach.

Geralt looks at Roach and sees her eating what he guesses is the last of an apple. “Hmm.” He says (*curious). “Did she tell you this herself?” Geralt and Jaskier both ask, almost in unison.

“Of course she did. I wouldn’t have told you she said something she didn’t.” Itheus says, waving the conjured brush away and turning to face the other two.

“You can talk to animals?” Jaskier asks, genuinely curious.

“Yes, but only if they choose to talk to me. More intelligent animals tend to be harder to talk to. Animals like birds and mice will talk to just about anyone who will listen.” Itheus explains, shrugging as though it’s nothing special.

Jaskier turns to Geralt, his face lit up. “Can you do that too?!” He asks enthusiastically. If Geralt has been able to talk to animals this whole time and hasn’t told him, Jaskier might just chew his ear off.

Geralt shakes his head. “Not like that, no. I can read animals, but they don’t actually speak to me.” He says, intrigued by Itheus’s ability. No Witcher or mage Geraly has ever met can speak with animals without taking a temporary potion.

“Aw, damn.” Jaskier says, a little disappointed.

“It seems Itheus has many unique abilities.” Geralt says, looking at the younger Witcher.

Jaskier nods in agreement and sits down with his lute to start replacing the strings.

“Itheus…” Geralt starts, looking over at the boy. “There’s something you need to know.” He says, then looks over at Jaskier. It’s probably best to have this conversation Witcher to Witcher, Geralt thinks. 

“Help me find some wood for the fire and some things for dinner and we’ll talk.” Geralt says, not really leaving room for a choice.

Itheus gives him a look of confusion. “Oh… Um, alright. Sure.” He says, following Geralt into the woods.

The two Witchers walk until they’re far enough into the woods that the only sounds to be heard are that of the wildlife and their own slow heartbeats. Geralt says nothing as they walk, but makes sure they go far enough to find some rabbits for dinner. 

It’s Itheus that breaks the silence. “So, what do I need to know?” He asks, idly fidgeting with the straps on his armor.

His anxious fidgeting does not go unnoticed by Geralt, but then again… not a lot goes unnoticed by the White Wolf. Geralt hums, then leans against a tree. “You are, presumably, the last Witcher to have been created. I’m fifty years older than you, but even Lambert, who we thought to be the youngest is significantly older than you as well.” He pauses for a moment before continuing.

“Dangerous people are going to come after you. Powerful people. People who will want to take advantage of your new blood. You are the only one of your kind and people tend to not like things they don’t understand.” Geralt says, his eyes meeting Itheus’s. The look the younger Witcher gives him shows that this is not new information to him, but still troubling nonetheless

“You have to be prepared to fight whoever and whatever comes after you. Your life depends on it… And sometimes other people’s lives will too.” Jaskier pops into Geralt’s mind as he says that, remembering all the times people have attacked Jaskier simply because he travels with him. 

“But you don’t have to prepare alone. I will help train you in hand to hand combat.” Geralt concludes, pushing off of the tree and stepping closer to Itheus.

Itheus looks up, his eyebrows scrunched. Geralt can’t read minds, but Itheus certainly looks like his is running a mile a minute. 

“Thank you, Geralt. I- I don’t know how to repay you and Jaskier, but I will. You have my word.” Itheus says, his voice taking an air of finality.

“Jaskier will say I’m doing this out of generosity, but I’m not. The longer you mill about the Continent improperly trained, the more dangerous you get. You’re undisciplined,  _ unstable _ . I’m doing this for the sake of you, me, Jaskier, and all of humanity.” Geralt says with a rumble in his voice. 

“You can repay me by helping on hunts. You’re small, fast, agile, and you’ve got far more magic than I do. You could be very useful. Two of us on a hunt means it gets done faster.” Geralt adds, leaving a rich silence between the two. 

He watches Itheus, noting how the younger man’s eyes change. His nostrils flare and his head whips to the side. Geralt says nothing, but stays on high alert. It’s not a monster that Itheus is sensing, because he definitely would have sensed it too.

Quickly, Itheus goes from frozen in place to launching the dagger from his thigh into the woods. “What-” Geralt starts to say, but is cut off when Itheus runs deeper into the woods.  _ Damn, the Witchling really is fast _ . He thinks. 

Itheus emerges moments later with his dagger re-sheathed and a decent sized doe dragging behind him. “Dinner.” Itheus says simply, dropping the deer at Geralt’s feet.

“Hmm.” Geralt says (*amused). “I’m surprised you heard that thing from this far away. A bit theatric, but I’m not complaining.” He says, chuckling softly. So Itheus’s hearing  _ is  _ better than his own. Well, he won’t go as far as to say that yet. He heard it too, he just didn’t know what it was.

Apparently Itheus had heard it clear enough that he knew to throw his dagger. 

“What can I say? Enhanced hearing can be helpful… When it’s not overwhelming me and making my ears hurt.” Itheus says with a shrug before crouching down and taking his dagger out once more. He makes an incision on the belly of the deer and slices up, then makes another slice downward. He finishes gutting and skinning the deer before standing and looking at Geralt. 

“Good. You know how to properly gut animals. I was worried they might have skipped that part of your training too.” Geralt says, watching as Itheus works. 

“Ah, yeah. I got all of the animal, monster, and herb training… thank gods. Although I don’t normally skin and gut them myself. I usually just, you know…” Itheus makes a gesture with his hand. “Use a spell for it. Makes it easier, less messy.”

“Hmm.” Geralt hums (*disapproving). It’s apparent to him that Itheus relies far too much on magic, even for mundane tasks like gutting animals. They’ll definitely have to work on that too.

“Is that your favorite word or something?” Itheus asks, quirking an eyebrow at Geralt. “Or is it just your default noise? Because either way, you say ‘hmm’ a lot.” He says, a playful tone in his voice.

Geralt rolls his eyes.  _ Great, another mouthy travel companion.  _ He thinks benignly. “You sound like Jaskier.” He grumbles, grabbing the deer by its legs and hauling it like it weighs nothing. “Come on, we should get back. It’ll be getting dark soon.” Geralt says as he starts walking back to their camp.

When they return, Jaskier is plucking away at his lute. In the ten years that they’ve been travelling together Jaskier has grown accustomed to Geralt randomly disappearing at times. He wasn’t worried when Geralt and Itheus walked off into the woods, but he’s always relieved when his Witcher comes back. 

That’s part of it, he supposes. Dating Geralt means that there’s a possibility he could walk off one day and never come back, because some monster or human decided to kill him. But Jaskier has faith in Geralt and doesn’t like thinking about it.

Jaskier stops his plucking, taking a break from composing a new song about their last hunt. “Oh good, you two are back. I hope the grumpy old wolf didn’t scare you too badly, Itheus.” He says with a grin, winking cheekily at Geralt. 

“No, no. Geralt didn’t scare me at all. He just warned me about the people that will likely try to come after me, because I’m presumably the youngest Witcher. He also said he’s agreeing to help train me because I’m a danger to humanity if left improperly trained.” Itheus says, watching in confusion as Jaskier’s expression grows more concerned.

“Geralt! What people are going to come after him? After  _ us? _ ” The bard asks, directing his worry at Geralt while he prepares the deer on a spit. 

Geralt sighs and keeps working without looking up. “It’s hard to say. Stregobor, for one. You know how that slimy piece of shit is. He’d do anything to get his hands on fresh Witcher blood. Tissaia, maybe. She has a fascination with the powerful ones. It’s impossible to rule anyone out.” He says as he finishes setting up the spit.

“But regardless of who or whatever comes, we will all be prepared. We’ll have to come up with a plan.” Geralt says, then crouches back down to get started on the fire.

“Tissaia won’t come after me.” Itheus says unexpectedly. “At least not for my magic or for my blood.” He says as he walks over to Ivy and grabs his bedroll from her pack.

This makes Geralt and Jaskier both look up. “How do you know?” They both ask in unison.

“Because… well, I can’t explain how I know. But I know her and I know she won’t try to kill me.” Itheus answers, fidgeting nervously. Geralt narrows his eyes at him.  _ He’s hiding something _ . He thinks.

_ Well that’s not suspicious at all.  _ Jaskier thinks to himself. “You know Tissaia de Vries? Like… short woman, wears a lot of fancy dresses, looks like she’d turn you into a lobster?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“Yes, but we haven’t spoken in years. She probably doesn’t even know that I’m still alive.” Itheus explains, then moves over to where Geralt is roasting the deer. “Anyway, let’s get ready to eat.” He says, desperate to change the subject.

***

The three of them eat mostly in silence, aside for a few conversation starters from Jaskier here and there. Geralt and Jaskier both dance around asking Itheus more questions. It’s clear the boy doesn’t want to share some things, but every answer he’s given has only led to more questions.

Geralt doesn’t know how he’s going to do this. He hasn’t trained anyone before, other than Jaskier. But even then, all he taught him was how to use a sword in case shit ever got  _ really  _ bad. Itheus doesn’t need sword training… and training a human bard is completely different from training a quarter-elf Witcher that is also a sorcerer.

_ Fuck _ , Geralt thinks. Why did he let Jaskier convince him to do this? He was perfectly fine hunting monsters and travelling with his adventure-telling bard, but Jaskier just  _ had  _ to go to Novigrad today. 

Geralt finishes eating and sighs.  _ No, it’s not fair to blame this on Jaskier. _ He tells himself. It’s true, it’s just as much his fault for agreeing to go as it is Jaskier’s for asking. And Geralt has a feeling that Itheus would have eventually found him regardless of what town he was in. 

_ Is this how Vesemir felt? _ Geralt wonders, feeling as though he could use some words of wisdom from the man right about now.

“Geralt, talk to me. You’re doing that thing where you stare off into the void. What’s going on?” Jaskier asks worriedly, scooting closer to Geralt. He looks up at him, his cornflower blue eyes searching Geralt’s face.

Geralt looks up and notices that Itheus is gone. He can’t see him, but he can still hear him. So he knows he didn’t run off. “Just… thinking. Wondering if this is how Vesemir felt when he got his first group of trainees.” He says, his amber eyes meeting Jaskier’s.

“Penny for those thoughts?” Jaskier asks.

“I just… I’m not the mentor type, Jaskier. I don’t  _ teach _ people. If anything, I’m a lesson on what  _ not _ to do.” Geralt says, his voice low and disgruntled.

“But Geralt, dear heart, you taught me how to properly wield a sword. You taught me how to identify poisonous berries, how to identify monster tracks, and how to break a man’s arm in case I ever get bard-napped.” Jaskier says, placing a gentle hand on Geralt’s arm.

Geralt sighs and relaxes into the touch. “That’s true, but this is different. That’s stuff anyone can learn. Extensive combat… the signs? It takes months, years of training for Witchers to learn and master those things.” He explains, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Love, teaching is teaching regardless of who the student is. I know you can do it. No one around here could teach him better than you can.” Jaskier says, cupping Geralt’s face with his hand. 

“Just give yourself a chance, Geralt.” The bard says softly, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. 

“Alright, fine.” Geralt concedes. 

“Your methods of persuasion seem to be ever growing, songbird.” He chuckles, then turns his head and catches Jaskier’s lips in a kiss. Jaskier smiles against Geralt’s slightly chapped lips and deepens the kiss.

Geralt pulls away when he hears Itheus’s footsteps approaching, not wanting to display so much affection in front of him. Jaskier understands when Geralt pulls away, already knowing that his Witcher isn’t one for public displays of affection. 

Itheus comes back and sits on his bedroll that he set out on the opposite side of the fire from Geralt and Jaskier’s. He looks at the two as Jaskier nuzzles into Geralt’s side. Geralt senses something change in the younger Witcher. It’s not quite discomfort… it’s almost as if he’s confused and  _ hurting  _ at the same time.

***

**Itheus**

Itheus feels something stir inside himself as he watches Geralt and Jaskier by the fire. Something he’s never felt before. He’s not yearning, per-say. He just feels  _ lonely. _ He’s felt lonely before, but never like this.

But then again, he’s never seen people interact like this before. The young Witcher isn’t dumb by any means, he knows that they’re dating. And he knows what love is, but of all the languages he speaks… love is not one that has ever been spoken to him.

He’s heard fables of true love before. Soulmates, star crossed lovers,  _ destiny _ . But he was taught that love is weakness. Love exposes your soft underbelly and makes you vulnerable.  _ Soulmates and true love are a lie commonfolk tell themselves to feel special.  _ Tissaia’s words ring out in his head, leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth.

Those words have stuck with him ever since they were spoken all those years ago. It was a lesson, he remembers. One of the girls had snuck a boy into her chamber, a student from Ban Ard. When she was caught, she screamed and yelled that they were soulmates and no one could keep them apart because they’re in love, not even Tissaia. 

So Tissaia took the poor girl’s voice away. Fried her vocal chords to a crisp and turned her boyfriend into an eel. Itheus had been eight at the time and had hid himself in a wardrobe.

But it didn’t stop there. When he was left in Guxart’s hands and trained as a Witcher, it was ingrained into him that Witchers do not love. They do not feel love. They are not loved. 

The sight before him goes against everything he’s ever been told about  _ love _ . He is seeing a Witcher love and be loved.  _ If a Witcher such as Geralt can be loved so tenderly by this bard, perhaps love is not the problem. _ Itheus thinks to himself. He turns away and stares off into the woods, unable to stomach the sight anymore.

_ Perhaps I’m just too different to be loved like that… or at all. Unworthy. Too… volatile. Too mutated.  _ His brain continues on, filling his head with thoughts that make his throat feel tight.  _ Who would love a failed experiment? A freak with eyes that scare small children. A Witcher that can’t even do basic signs.  _ He tries to shake the thoughts away, but the lonely feeling of inadequacy has settled deep into his bones.

Itheus lies down on his bedroll and stares up at the night sky, trying to find any comfort he can in the twinkling stars.

He realizes that he is scared. The uncertainty of his future is terrifying him. He has spent so much of his life alone, moving from place to place with no purpose or direction. Then the whispers of destiny started, the  _ dreams _ .

And he chased them aimlessly like a dying man searching for a cure to an illness no one else knows exists. He grew desperate, hopeless, and vengeful all at once. 

But now all of that is behind him. All of the searching, all of the  _ desperation. _ This is where destiny has led him,  _ but where will it take him?  _ Itheus doesn’t like the fear of the unknown.

His fate is in the hands of two complete  _ strangers _ . One of which he met once over a decade ago, and the other he tried to kill in the last six hours. He knows there’s a lot he hasn’t answered. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about Geralt and Jaskier too. He knows his reluctance to share certain information isn’t helping build their trust, but he just can’t risk that yet. 

He built up walls for a reason.

Itheus is dragged out of his thoughts by a voice behind him. “You should try to sleep soon. We’ll be leaving early to head to the next town, one with an inn that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. And hopefully one with a job for us too.” Geralt says, looking down at Itheus. He blinks a few times and shakes the emotional fog from his brain.

“I want to see how you kill monsters before we get started on anything.” Geralt adds before walking back to his and Jaskier’s shared bedroll. 

Itheus nods, but can’t muster the voice to say anything. He pulls the thin blanket over himself and goes back to staring at the stars. The vast, endless darkness helps lull him to sleep.

The last thought he has before he falls asleep is,  _ So this is what it’s like to not fall asleep alone? _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Itheus's internal pain made me so sad omg. SOMEONE COME LOVE THIS BOY ALREADY.   
> But seriously, I hope this chapter gave everyone some insight into how all of the characters are feeling.
> 
> Geralt has no clue where to start with all of this, but Jaskier has so much faith in him... they're adorable.


	3. Winter is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time Geralt thinks he's getting somewhere with itheus, they end up taking two steps back. His patience is wearing thin. He's debating giving up. After a particularly rough sparring session, Geralt is ready to wave his white flag.
> 
> Until Jaskier suggests that they enlist the help of some... old friends. It might be both the best and most disastrous idea the bard has ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo hoo hoo this was so exciting to write and I already want to get to chapter four! More feelings, more fighting... and Geralt admitting to Jaskier that he's right?
> 
> Geralt says something nice about Itheus for once? Read more to find out *eyes emoji*

**Autumn 1250**

**Geralt**

It took several weeks of travelling from town to town for Geralt, Jaskier, and Itheus to find a job. When they finally found one, it was about a pack of mutated dog-like creatures in Toussaint. Another traveller described the dogs to Geralt as ‘phantom hellhounds.’ 

At least another week passed before they reached Toussaint, and Geralt was growing tired of Jaskier seemingly constantly prodding at Itheus. In turn, the younger Witcher’s anxiety spiked scent had eventually set him on edge.

He knew it wasn’t either of their faults, really. It was a long, boring trip in the heat of summer. They were all bound to get irritated and restless eventually. Geralt had just hoped ‘eventually’ meant later rather than sooner for the wise-cracking bard.

As much as he loves Jaskier, Geralt can only handle him asking ‘are we there yet?’ so many times. On top of that, the bard seemed intent on either getting Itheus to spill more about his past or irritating him to the point that he spells his mouth shut. Neither actually happened, though there were a few times Geralt got worried that Itheus was going to snap at Jaskier.

“So since you’re from the Cat school, does that mean you’re like… a cat boy? Do you hiss and all that? Because Geralt growls like a wolf a lot and-” Jaskier rambled.

“Jaskier, I’m not going to feel bad for you if Itheus ends up throwing another dagger at you.” Geralt had interrupted the bard who was facing backwards on Roach, trying to talk to Itheus.

Jaskier had huffed at that. “I’m just trying to befriend him, Geralt. I’m curious about the mysterious Witchling we’ve added to our party, sue me.” He said, but eventually left Itheus alone.

Itheus’s silence did not go unnoticed by Geralt. He hardly said anything the entire time they were travelling to Toussaint. He hasn’t known the young Witcher long enough to know if this silence is characteristic of him, but he certainly takes note of it.

Just because he knows Itheus isn’t lying about the things from his past that he  _ did _ share doesn’t mean that Geralt trusts him yet.

When they finally got to Toussaint, the duchy was not bright and cheery like Geralt remembered it being. There were no children playing in the summer sun, no young girls picking flowers for their daisy chains. If Geralt didn’t know any better, he’d think the town was abandoned. 

Geralt, Jaskier, and Itheus paid for rooms at the only inn the small town has after handing their respective horses over to the squirrely stable boy. Geralt and Jaskier got a room together, but Itheus was in the room next to them.

They took no time to rest, however. Once they paid for their rooms, Geralt told Itheus to get dressed in his armor and meet him and Jaskier in the tavern. It didn’t take long for Geralt and Itheus to be seated at a table in a back corner and for Jaskier to be livening the patrons up with a song.

The tavern wasn’t anything special. It was small and had an air of comfort about it, as most of Toussaint does. Or normally does. Geralt has been to so many taverns in his lifetime that nothing about this one stood out to him in the slightest.

“So, before we get started…” Geralt said, leaning forward. “I want to see how much you know. What do you think these ‘phantom hellhounds’ are?” He asked, looking down at Itheus.

“Well, my instant thought was either a werewolf or wild dogs.” Itheus said, but then shook his head. “But werewolves don’t normally attack in packs, and wild dogs don’t have a ‘phantom’ appearance… so my guess is a pack of Barghests.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt had said (*agreeing). “And how do we go about tracking a pack of Barghests?” He asked. He knows the answer of course, but this isn’t a test of his own knowledge.

“Barghests are said to appear after a funeral or during a foggy night to serve as an omen of death and bad luck. They almost always appear in packs and attack at night.” Itheus said, recounting his teachings confidently. “So we ask around, see if there’s been any funerals recently. Find out where the most recent sighting was, and start there.” He said, his eyes meeting Geralt’s.

Geralt nodded. “Good. That’s all correct. Now how do we kill it? What are they immune to?” He asked, even though he knew it was slightly lesser-known knowledge.

“Their undead nature makes them immune to fire and by extension, Igni. They themselves are prone to using phantom fire. They cannot be poisoned, but they can be stunned. They are susceptible to silver, specter oil, Axii, and Yrden.” Itheus had answered, not missing a beat in his explanation. 

Geralt, though he didn’t outwardly show it, was mildly impressed. For as young and inexperienced as he is, Itheus seems to have a good understanding of monsters. “I’m glad to see they at least taught you the basics.” He said half jokingly, chuckling quietly. It’s going to take a lot more than remembering readings from a book for Itheus to earn Geralt’s praise.

“We’ll wait until it gets dark, then we’ll see how your hunting skills are.” Geralt said before waiving the bar maiden over and ordering a drink.

***

Tracking down the pack of beasts went fairly smooth, all things considered. The only bump in the road was having to deal with Jaskier’s whines of protest when Geralt told him he had to stay in their room at the inn. He explained that it was just too dangerous for him to tag along, especially since packs of Barghests like to single out their prey and ambush them.

“But Geralt, how will I write an epic tale of your adventure if I can’t witness it myself?” Jaskier had whined, trying to follow Geralt out the door.

“I’ll have Itheus recount the details to you when we get back.” Geralt said firmly.

“But that’s not the same! I’m perfectly capable of-” Jaskier was cut off mid sentence. 

“I said  _ no,  _ Jaskier. I know you’re capable of defending yourself, but it’s still too dangerous. Plus I need to observe how Itheus operates on hunts so I know where to start with his training.” Geralt said, his voice soft but stern. 

Jaskier flushed pink from the tone. “Yes, Geralt… can I have a kiss before you go?” The bard asked, looking up at him with wide eyes and pouty lips.  _ When I get back, I’m gonna kiss those pretty lips til they’re swollen .  _ Geralt thought to himself.

“Of course, my little lark.” He said with a grin as he lifted Jaskier by his hips, pressing a deep kiss to his soft lips. “Be good for me while I’m gone.” Geralt said, even though Jaskier is almost always good for him.  _ Almost. _

“I’m always good when you’re away, my dear Witcher.” Jaskier said with a slight giggle, kissing Geralt one more time before giving him a playful shove. “Go on now, go slay the beasts. Observe the Witchling for training. Do hurry, love. I’ll be waiting for you.” He said before closing the door.

Once Geralt had placated Jaskier, the tracking part of the hunt went smoothly.

Geralt and Itheus discovered that there had been a handful of funerals prior to the Barghests showing up. According to a few merchants, a particularly nasty sickness had spread through a good portion of the town. They said it claimed at least two and a half families. 

It got so bad that they had to hire a mage, because their local doctor couldn’t cure it. Not only that, but he had never seen anything like it before. They said once the mage worked her magic, the sickness went away and those it hadn’t claimed recovered from it.

They heard the pack was last seen near the blacksmith’s house by the creek, so that’s where they started. 

Geralt took a bottle of cat’s eye potion and downed it in one go. He can see better in the dark than normal humans, but with cat’s eye he’s able to see in total darkness like there’s still light outside. The potion lasts until dawn.

Itheus watched him as he took the potion and Geralt immediately felt his discomfort spike in his scent.  _ Odd.  _ Geralt thought. “I take it you’re not fond of potions. Do you use them at all?” Geralt asked, turning back to look at Itheus.

The younger witcher shook his head. “No, I don’t. I know how to make them, but… I had a really bad reaction to them. I’m terrified of losing control like that again.” Itheus said, not meeting Geralt’s gaze. “So I don’t use them. It scares me too much.” He admitted, feeling ashamed.

Geralt walked closer to him. “There’s no shame in being afraid, Itheus. Your emotions aren’t dulled like most witchers, you can’t blame yourself for something you can’t control.” He said, feeling sympathy for the younger man. “We can work on potions too if you’d like. Slowly, at your pace. But they’re one of a witcher’s most important tools.”

Itheus gave him an appreciative smile and nodded. “Thank you, Geralt. I uh… it’s hard for me a lot of the time, being different. I try to force myself to be the way I know other witchers are, but it doesn’t always work.” He said, but their conversation was cut short by a growling from behind them.

Geralt and Itheus drew their silver swords in unison, spinning to face the direction the sound came from. The sight they were met with was… hellish, to say the least. Five barghests were walking up on them, resembling that of a large canine skeleton covered in burnt, corpse-like flesh.

They were snarling, blood and chunks of skin hanging from their sharp, mangy teeth. Geralt and Itheus stood their ground, waiting for the hounds to attack. Geralt knew that attacking the pack head on would be a death trap.

When the pack charged towards them, Geralt dodged left and Itheus dodged right. They easily avoided the first attack, but barghests are fast and relentless. They were quickly surrounded by them with hounds on all sides, snarling and preparing to attack again.

“Fuck.” Geralt said, then swung his sword down near one of the beast’s necks. The barghest dodged and when it did, another one charged at Itheus. The younger witcher dodged and swung his sword, which left a gash down the creature’s back.

“Your footwork is clumsy.” Geralt said, then jabbed at the barghest that dodged, spearing it through the chest.

One of the other hounds spat a stream of fire at the two witchers, but Geralt cast Quen and blocked it. Itheus, too busy slashing down on another one’s head, didn’t have time to block the flames.

“Fuck!” Itheus called out, hissing in pain from the burn. His eyes flashed red and he cast a spell that snapped the barghest’s neck. Geralt noted the use of the spell, then jumped out of the way to exit the encircling beasts.

Itheus used another spell to disintegrate one of the other hounds. “You’re relying too heavily on your magic. You have swords for a reason.” Geralt called out, dodging another attack and hacking the head off one of the few remaining barghest’s.

Itheus grunted and did a flip to avoid two of the hounds charging at him, then speared them both through the chest at the same time. “There you go.” Geralt said, nodding to Itheus.

Once all of the beasts had been slain, Geralt and Itheus sheathed their swords and started to head back to the inn. It was nearing dawn by the time they had finished their hunt.

“So, I’ve made a few observations from watching you fight.” Geralt said as they walked back. They had left their horses in the stable just in case there were more barghests than they prepared for.

“Lay them on me.” Itheus said, inspecting the burn on his outer thigh.

“Your footwork is flawed and your movements are clumsy. You move out of impulse, not strategy. You have no plan whenever you dodge or attack, which you should. Every move you make while you’re hunting or fighting should be calculated, because a simple mistake could cost you your life.” Geralt explained, not sugar coating anything. 

When Itheus nodded, Geralt continued. “You rely too heavily on magic when you fight. That goes for both monsters and when you fought me. Magic is not for monster hunting. As a witcher, you need to use the tools that are made for you and use magic as a back up. What would you do if you were being ambushed and couldn’t use any spells?” Geralt asked rhetorically.

Itheus made a noise of understanding, then asked “Is there anything else?”

Geralt hummed in thought for a moment. “That stunt with the neck snapping? That can’t keep happening. You got burned and it made you angry, which made you act out of impulse. You have no discipline, which is fundamental for witchers.” He said seriously, watching Itheus’s face to make sure he understands.

“I understand.” Itheus said with a nod. “I’ve always struggled with my emotions consuming me. Anger is just one of the worst ones, but I want to work on it. I want to work on everything you said.” He answered.

In all honesty, Geralt hadn’t expected Itheus to take the criticism that well. He expected the younger to get angry or defensive, but he didn’t. Even though Geralt was definitely harsh with his words, Itheus responded by being nothing but willing to work on it.

At first Geralt was impressed, but then an unsettling feeling crept into his stomach. Itheus didn’t defend himself from Geralt’s criticism  _ at all _ . Not even to argue that he did several things correctly.  _ Does he always just take the harsh words that are dealt to him? _ Geralt asked himself, but quickly brushed it off.

***

Their first hunt together was several months ago. Now, Geralt and Itheus are working on hand to hand skills while Jaskier watches from his spot on a blanket, scribbling idly in his notebook. He’d say he’s writing a new song, but… well, it’s hard to focus while two handsome witchers are sparring in front of him, okay? Two powerful beings, all sweaty and glistening… fuck.

“Watch your footwork.” Geralt reminds as he blocks a few of Itheus’s punches. “It’s easier to trip when your feet are closer together, but if they’re too far apart you’ll lose balance.”

Itheus adjusted his feet, but Geralt shook his head and countered. He punches towards the younger witcher’s face, but Itheus dodges by going into a backbend. Geralt tsks and sweeps his feet from under him, knocking Itheus on his ass. 

“See, if you had thought before you did that, then you would’ve predicted my counter move.” Geralt says, standing over Itheus as he waits for him to get back up.

Itheus hisses when he hits the ground. “We’ve been sparring for hours, can’t we just stop?” He asks, looking up at the master witcher towering over him.

“When you land a hit on me, then we can stop.” Geralt says, which seems to only piss Itheus off more. 

Itheus huffs and rolls forward, jumping to his feet. “When I land a hit? Fine.” He says, charging at Geralt.

Geralt doesn’t even move, he casts Aard which slams Itheus into an adjacent wall. “Charging out of anger won’t make your chances of hitting anything higher.” Geralt criticizes. “You have to maintain control, Itheus.”

Jaskier is now watching intently from his blanket, his notebook discarded beside him. The tension between Itheus and Geralt is growing and Jaskier would be lying if he said it wasn’t at least a little bit hot. Something about Geralt’s demeanor and tone when he’s training Itheus makes Jaskier’s blood run just a bit warmer.

Itheus’s eyes glow and he throws his hand out, making a gust of wind knock Geralt to the ground. “There. I landed a hit, class dismissed.” He says, his voice growling at the end. 

“Itheus!” Geralt yells. “You know damn well I meant without magic! We’re not stopping until you get it right.” He says, but Itheus is already disappearing into a portal.

“Fuck!” The older witcher shouts out of anger, starting to stalk off to find the other.

Jaskier sighs and jumps up from his blanket, jogging over to Geralt. “Love, he’ll be back. Just let him be for now.” The bard says, stepping in front of his boyfriend. He’s been around the two of them long enough to know that Geralt chasing after him would only make the younger witcher’s anger double.

“Every time I think we’re making progress, he loses control and does shit like that.” Geralt says, not moving forward but not backing down either.

“Growth isn’t linear, Geralt. You can’t teach him years worth of Witcher training in a few months. That’s why he is the way he is now, isn’t it?” Jaskier says softly, gently tugging Geralt towards the blanket in the grass.

“I don’t think I can teach him at all, Jask. I don’t have the patience. And we haven’t even gotten to the signs yet. I’m still just trying to teach him how to not get kicked to death in a fight.” Geralt says with a defeated sigh, sitting down on the blanket with Jaskier. 

Jaskier is silent for a few moments until a game changing idea pops into his head. “Maybe we’ve been going about this all wrong. You’re right, you can’t teach him.”

“Thanks, Jaskier.” Geralt grumbles .

“Let me finish, you grump. You can’t teach him  _ alone.  _ You’ve told me yourself that you had several teachers when you were training. You’re stretching yourself thin trying to teach him everything, Geralt.” Jaskier explains, getting more and more animated as he speaks.

This makes Geralt look over at his bard. “Hmm.” He says (*continue).

“You need to take him out of his element. You need to teach him with the help of other Witchers.” Jaskier finishes, giving Geralt a look that means ‘I’m right and you know it.’

Geralt’s attention is officially caught. “Jaskier please tell me you’re not suggesting that I take him to  _ Kaer Morhen. _ ” He says, giving Jaskier an incredulous look.

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” Jaskier says with a self-satisfied smirk. “Last time we were there, Vesemir said we’re welcome anytime. We haven’t been in years and it’s already autumn, Geralt. The three of us could go for the winter.” He explains, nosing at Geralt’s neck affectionately.

Geralt seems almost too stunned to say anything, so Jaskier pushes forward. “You even said the other day that if there’s anyone more skilled in combat than you, it’s probably Lambert.”

This gets a reaction out of Geralt, just not the one Jaskier was hoping for. “Are you crazy, Jaskier? Lambert would rip him to shreds. I told you about what happened with Aiden. Did you forget the part where the Cat school was banned from Kaer Morhen?” He protests, seeing every worst case scenario.

Jaskier sighs and presses kisses along the column of Geralt’s throat. Geralt leans into Jaskier and relaxes fractionally. “It’s worth a try, Geralt. Please trust me? It’ll be good for all of us. You can’t keep doing this alone, and he needs proper training.” Jaskier says, then hums softly.

“If Lambert or Eskel lose their marbles, we can protect him. But even then, he’s capable of defending himself.” He says, then kisses Geralt softly on the lips. “He’s special, Geralt. And destiny put him with us.”

Geralt closes his eyes. “He is special, isn’t he? Stubborn as shit, but damn can he smart his way out of anything. Probably one of the best swordsmen I’ve ever met too, aside from Eskel.” He says, then turns and meets Jaskier’s eyes. 

“I think destiny is a bunch of horseshit, but I’m glad he’s with us. The extra help on hunts is great and his company is… well, nice. But not as nice as yours.” Geralt says with a chuckle, tackling Jaskier to the blanket and kissing him on the lips.

Jaskier kisses him back eagerly. “Does this mean we’re going?” Jaskier asks when he has to pull away for air.

“Hmm.” Geralt responds (*agreeing). “We’ll be sure to get there before the first snowfall.” 

Jaskier smiles and kisses Geralt again. “I’ll tell him and explain what’s going on.” He says, but the two are startled by a sudden presence. 

“Where are we going?” Itheus asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. His hands are covered in frost all the way up to his palms and it looks like he’s been crying, but he seems to be ignoring it.

Jaskier feels bad seeing his puffy eyes and tear stained face. He knows what it’s like when your own thoughts get too loud and say terrible things, especially when you mess up. He wiggles out from under Geralt and walks over to Itheus. Silently, he takes the young Witcher’s icy hands in his and heats them up, Jaskier’s hands glowing with a warm yellow light.

Itheus stares at his now warm hands, struck with awe. 

“We’re going to Kaer Morhen for the winter. We have some friends there that can give the grumpy old snowman a few extra hands with training. He’s been a horse’s arse lately, because he refuses to admit that Witcher training isn’t a one man job.” Jaskier says light heartedly, which makes Itheus smile. Geralt can hear them, but he doesn’t mind much.

Geralt can’t help but smile when Jaskier’s hands glow.  _ I love you.  _ He thinks as he watches his bard easily cheer Itheus up, the witchling who usually spends most of the week in a slump when he messes up during training.

  
“We’ll start our journey there once the leaves start falling. That’ll give us plenty of time to get settled before the first snowfall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this?? In-human Jaskier perhaps? Itheus may be just as surprised as you, if not more!
> 
> Our cat boy is officially going to the Wolf School... So prepare for winter at Kaer Morhen! Will it be as bad as Geralt assumes? Or will some unlikely bonds be made?
> 
> Papa Vesemir, Lambert, and Eskel are definitely in for a surprise...


	4. Rough Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all? If he did, I swear-” He asks, looking over Itheus’s face.
> 
> Itheus shakes his head and interrupts him. “No, no he didn’t hurt me. Just scared me is all.” He says, trying to reassure the older man.
> 
> “Hmm.” Geralt says (*Not convinced). He gently takes Itheus’s chin between his fingers and turns his head to the side, careful not to hurt him. He doesn’t see any injuries there, so he steps back a little and looks him up and down. He doesn’t see any fresh wounds, just scattered scars across Itheus’s arms and torso. Two of his scars stand out to him though, symmetrical ones right under his chest muscles. They’re light, most likely much older than all the other ones. What monster leaves symmetrical wounds like that? Geralt thinks to himself. 
> 
> Geralt realizes that this is the first time he’s seen Itheus in such a state of undress. And well… he’s not a bad sight. He’s built similarly to Jaskier, but he’s more toned. They’d look nice next to each other. His muscles are more defined. He’s got more hard lines, where Jaskier is softer. But years of travelling, fighting, and killing monsters tends to do that regardless of how big or small you are.

“Jaskier, make sure you pack enough  _ warm  _ clothes. I won’t have you almost freezing to death like last time.” Geralt says as he prepares his pack, counting his furs and articles of clothing. Being a creature of routine, Geralt has long since calculated how much he needs to bring for the winter. But, because of his forgetful bard, he now brings a few extra things just in case.

“Yes, yes. I know what to pack, Geralt. Though your mother henning is quite adorable.” Jaskier says, smiling because he knows his compliments fluster Geralt greatly. 

Jaskier looks over at Itheus and asks how his packing is going, to which he gets the response of “Good… I think.” 

In reality, it was  _ not  _ going good for the younger Witcher. His bag is packed with significantly less warm clothing than Jaskier and Geralt’s. He really doesn’t know what to pack, and is far too stubborn to ask for help. This is something he should know, damn it. But he’s never stayed anywhere for the entire winter before. He’ll be fine, he thinks. They’ll be in a castle that will most likely have many fires going. 

Itheus finishes packing before Geralt and Jaskier due to his less abundant belongings, so he goes around and makes sure he has everything else prepared. Food for the trip is safely secured in Ivy’s saddle bag. His swords are oiled, sharpened, and resting on his back. His dagger has been given the same treatment and is sheathed at his thigh. He’s brought a few other things to occupy himself as well, including a few books to read, his sketchbook, a quill, and ink. 

Once Roach and Ivy are loaded up with Itheus, Jaskier, and Geralt’s belongings, they set out for Kaer Morhen. It’s the same day that Geralt leaves every year, not that Itheus or even Jaskier would really know that.

It’s all very odd for Itheus, having to follow people to a place he’s never been before. What’s even more odd to him is travelling while having no job in the forethought of his mind. All these years he’s been travelling, having to go from one job to another. But now? He gets to spend the entire winter not having to think about killing monsters… hopefully.

About halfway through the trip, Itheus realizes that he is  _ very _ unprepared for the freezing months ahead of them. It’s still technically autumn and it’s already nearing too cold for him to handle. He plays it off easy enough, though. While Geralt and Jaskier are bundled in layers of shirts, breeches, and furs, Itheus repeatedly casts a spell on himself that warms his clothes and stops him from shivering. To Geralt and Jaskier, it just looks like he’s unaffected by the cold climate.

It’s an easy assumption to make, really. Geralt is less susceptible to the cold because of his mutations, so the same should apply to Itheus and other Witchers… right?

Wrong. 

If Itheus doesn’t repeat the spell, the cold almost instantly settles into his bones and makes him shake. With the cold comes memories of the ice, and he doesn’t need that right now.

Geralt and Jaksier seem to pick up on Itheus’s anxiety surrounding the whole trip. They both understand his unease, but in different ways. Geralt remembers the first time he was brought here, having no idea where  _ here  _ really is. And Jaskier, well… he remembers the first winter that Geralt brought him here. He was so worried that they wouldn’t like him, that he wouldn’t fit in.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jaskier asks Itheus from where he sits on Ivy’s back. Itheus was kind enough to let the bard ride his horse and walk since he possesses a bit more stamina.

Itheus looks up at him and shrugs, then looks away. “I’m… worried. Afraid they won’t like me. You all know each other and I… well, I’m a failed Witcher from a disgraced school that’s being brought into their home unannounced.” He explains, keeping his eyes cast down at the ground.

Jaskier takes a deep breath. So his assumptions were correct, Itheus is feeling the same way he did when he first came here. “I felt the same way the first time Geralt brought me to Kaer Morhen. I thought ‘Well I’m just a human bard, how much could I possibly fit in?’ but when I got there, they welcomed me like I was one of their own.” Jaskier says softly, trying to quell Itheus’s thoughts. He chuckles softly, “They actually welcomed me a little  _ too much _ like one of their own. I was bruised for a week from their game of hide and seek.” 

Itheus smiles at the idea of Jaskier playing hide and seek with Geralt and a bunch of bulky Witchers.  _ Cute _ , he thinks. Jaskier’s words calm him for only a few moments. 

“But you’re… you. No one can truly dislike you, Jaskier. You’re perfect. And I’m the furthest thing from. I’m volatile, impulsive, out of control. I say the wrong things. But even if I wasn’t all of those things, I’m still a Cat. That reputation follows me everywhere I go, even if I had no hand in the atrocities that they committed.” Itheus says, sighing sadly but meaning every word of what he said. It’s true, to him Jaskier is perfect.

But Jaskier has no idea what to say to that. On one hand, he’s a bit flustered by Itheus calling him  _ perfect _ . On the other hand, he can’t speak on what it’s like to be in the young Witcher’s shoes.

Without prompting, Geralt clears his throat and looks over at Itheus. “You’re not a failure, Itheus. The situation you are in isn’t your fault. You have nothing to worry about while you are here. We’ll explain everything to Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert when we get there. It’ll be okay.” He says, looking at Itheus with a softness only Jaskier has seen.

Itheus breathes deeply and lets Geralt’s words settle over him. “Thank you, Geralt. You too, Jaskier.” He says, continuing to walk alongside Ivy.

They finally arrive at the gates of Kaer Morhen after nearly a week of traveling. They had no real problems with their journey, so everything was relatively smooth sailing (er.. hiking). When they reach the doors, Geralt and Jaskier are standing side by side. Itheus hides behind them, feeling smaller and more vulnerable than ever. 

Itheus looks up at the vast building before him, admiring the old stone architecture. It truly is a beautiful work of art, he thinks. If he wasn’t mildly freaking out right now, he’d probably appreciate it even more. He’s always been an admirer of the arts. 

Geralt is the one to knock, rapping against the door in the same rhythmic pattern that he always does. It doesn’t take long for the heavy metal door to open and for Vesemir’s smiling face to greet them kindly. “Geralt! I’m glad you could make it this year. Jaskier, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He says, then sniffs the air and tilts his head.

“I sense you two have brought a guest. Not another charming bard, I presume?” Vesemir asks after he picks up a third, unfamiliar scent.

Geralt gives a short chuckle and shakes his head. “No, I’ve only got room in my life for one bard.” He says, looking over at Jaskier. “But our guest is actually part of the reason why we came here. I’ll explain, but can we talk to you alone first? Away from Lambert and Eskel?” Geralt asks. It’s not that he doesn’t trust the other Wolves, it’s just that Vesemir has the wisdom of many more years than any of them possess.

“I don’t see why not. Come, follow me down to the lab.” Vesemir says, inviting the three of them inside. It’s a gesture Itheus is quite thankful for, as the air on top of the mountain is even colder and his spell is wearing off. 

Itheus follows Geralt and Jaskier inside, still hiding behind his two companions. That is, until Jaskier stops walking and gestures over to a large wooden table. “I’m going to stay here and catch up with Lamb and Esk, you go do your thing.” He says, nodding towards two large figures sitting at the table. Itheus notices that one is noticeably smaller than the other, but is still bigger than he is. Never has the young Witcher felt more self conscious about his size. 

“Who do you think it is that the White Wolf and his bard brought?” Itheus hears the smaller one ask. 

“I think the question should also be  _ what _ did ol’ Geralt bring? That scent smell human to you, Lambert?” The bigger one asks. Eskel, Itheus presumes.

Lambert opens his mouth to speak, but Jaskier saunters over to their table. “Hey boys, you miss me?” He asks, giving them a cheeky wink. Eskel laughs and scoops Jaskier up in his arms, making the bard giggle.

“Itheus.” Geralt calls out to the younger man, knowing he’s listening in on the other’s conversation. “Follow me.”

Itheus nods, following Vesemir and Geralt down a dimly lit flight of stairs and into a laboratory. The whole way down, Itheus stays closely behind Geralt, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. He makes sure to note his surroundings, something he always does in places he’s never been. A survival tactic.

Once the three Witchers are in the lab, Vesemir closes the door for added privacy. Itheus tries to hide behind Geralt again, but this time Geralt’s firm hand on his shoulder pushes him out in front. “My apologies, he’s a bit shy.” Geralt says, keeping his hand on Itheus’s bony shoulder to ground him more than anything. He can hear his heartbeat getting faster, his anxiety spiking.

Vesemir takes a few steps forward and looks Itheus up and down, noting the white streak in his hair and his heterochromatic eyes. “Interesting…” He hums. “You don’t see eyes like that every day. And I can feel the magic rolling off of you.” He says, then looks over at Geralt.

“You’ve brought me a sorcerer, but why? Get to explaining, Geralt. I don’t have all day.” Vesemir says, but Geralt knows there’s nothing rude behind his words.

“Because he’s not just a sorcerer. He’s a Witcher too. A quarter elf.” Geralt starts explaining, then pauses as he debates what to say. “From the Cat school. But he’s young, far too young to have been involved in what happened. He’s only thirty.” Geralt and Itheus both watch as Vesemir reacts to the information being shared with him.

“How did you find this… Witchling, son?” Vesemir asks, looking at Itheus intently. The younger Witcher can tell that he doesn’t quite trust what he’s being told.

Itheus tenses, knowing that the answer won’t wage well in his favor. “Through a bit of a misunderstanding. He was contracted by someone in Oxenfurt to kill me, but was lied to. He was given the description of a ‘white wolf’ that was terrorizing the continent. Promised more coin than he could imagine. He had no idea I was another Witcher until I disarmed him. If he had known, he never would have taken the job.” Geralt explains, which Itheus is infinitely thankful for. He doesn’t have the words to recount the story right now.

“So let me get this straight…” Vesemir says, turning to look at Geralt. “You were almost assassinated by a member of the School of the Cat, but instead of killing him or turning him in… you befriended him?”

Geralt sighs. “It’s not… that simple. I knew he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t know about me, that he doesn’t take contracts on humans. He’s not evil, Vesemir. He’s very far from it. He’s just… undisciplined. His training was inconsistent and he gets consumed by his emotions.” He says, and Vesemir can see how sincere he is.

“That’s why we brought him here. Well… Jaskier convinced me to bring him here. I’ve been trying to teach him things myself, but… I can’t do it alone. Jaskier suggested bringing him here for extra help from you, Lambert, and Eskel.” He finally says, admitting that he needs help.

Vesemir laughs heartily, clapping his hand down onto Geralt’s shoulder. “You always were too stubborn to ask for help when you needed it. Maybe age is finally humbling you.” He says lightheartedly. 

Geralt grumbles. “Hmm.” He says (*Perhaps).

Vesemir looks at Itheus and leans against the lab table. “How much  _ do _ you know, boy? And who was your mentor?” He asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest. If anyone knows the truth about the Cat school and knows its previous occupants, it’s Vesemir.

Itheus shifts his weight from foot to foot anxiously. “The only training they skipped out on was hand to hand and the Signs, really… They said I didn’t need it since I was so skilled in sorcerer magic. They focused on making me faster, stronger, better with weapons. I’m good with just about anything you put in my hands.” Itheus says, not looking up to meet Vesemir’s eyes.

“Guxart was my mentor, sir.” Itheus concludes, kicking at a pebble on the hard ground.

Vesemir sighs and unfolds his arms. “Ah… Guxart. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. We were imprisoned together during the attack on the school many years ago. He’s an old friend of mine.” He says, then narrows his eyes and hums. “Which means… You must be Areleth, Guxart’s sorcerer protege. But I heard you didn’t make it out after the fall of Stygga.”

Itheus visibly cringes at the use of that name, which Vesemir and Geralt both notice. Geralt wonders why Vesemir would know Itheus by a different name.

“It’s actually Itheus now, sir. I haven’t gone by Areleth since I was a babe. And no, I made it out… They had to sneak me into the caravan in the middle of the Grasses.” He says, his voice getting quieter when he mentions the trials. 

Vesemir’s eyes widen. “Of course, Itheus. I apologize for the name mishap, won’t happen again.” He apologizes, but Itheus can see the confusion written all over his face. “Not to be too… crass, but I’ve never seen someone complete the trials and come out as small as you. But I suppose every pack has its runt.” 

Itheus tries not to let Vesemir’s words get to him, but his size has always been a point of conflict… and bullying.

“I’m sorry I’m not as big or strong as the wolves you’ve raised, but I promise I can prove myself if you give me a chance.” Itheus says, his voice soft but his eyes alive with a fiery determination.

The young Witcher’s words stop Vesemir where he stands. “Oh… Dear boy, you have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve already shown so much strength just by surviving the trials, but being transported in the middle of them and surviving that as well? Itheus, you have more strength and perseverance than anyone I’ve seen in a long time.” Vesemir says, giving the young man a kind smile. 

Vesemir’s praise makes Itheus’s cheeks flush a bright shade of pink, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He stammers and mumbles something that sounds like a rebuttal, and Geralt is hit with a realization.

This is probably the first time Itheus has ever been praised.

He’s seen that reaction before. He’s seen someone’s resolve crack from words like that before. That’s the same way  _ Jaskier  _ reacted when he praised him for the first time. It was the first time Jaskier received praise that wasn’t superficial or relating to his appearance.

And oh.  _ Oh.  _ Geralt realizes that he’s majorly fucked up in how he’s been training Itheus. Hell, in how he’s been interacting with Itheus.  _ Fuck _ , Geralt thinks. 

Vesemir walks over to where Geralt is now leaning against the stone wall. “It’s always nice to have a few more chickens to count in my pen.” He says, which makes Geralt turn and look at him. “I’ll help you train Itheus. He’s special and that potential can’t be wasted. Plus… you know how dangerous untrained Witchers can be.”

“Thank you, Vesemir. I know I should have given you more notice, but… We were desperate.” Geralt says, giving him an apologetic look.

“It’s fine, Geralt. The more the merrier. Just… make sure he stays close to you or myself at first, just until the others adjust. I’ll try to talk Lambert and Eskel into helping, but you know how they are. They might be a bit territorial for a while.” Vesemir warns, knowing that Geralt knows what he means.

Geralt nods. “Speaking of those two, I’m going to go catch up with them. And make sure they haven’t whisked my bard off to either of their bedrooms yet.” He says, then makes his way across the room and out the door.

Vesemir shakes his head at the boys’ antics and walks back over to where Itheus is standing, looking much like that of a lost puppy… well, kitten.

“Don’t worry, everything will be okay. You’re in good hands here. There is nothing wrong with needing help, Itheus.” Vesemir says, ruffling Itheus’s hair. “If you have any problems with Lambert, Eskel, or Geralt, come tell me and I’ll take care of it.” He says, knowing his boys tend to be a bit rough around the edges.

“Thank you, Vesemir. I’ll be sure to tell you if I have any problems.” Itheus says, giving the older man an appreciative smile. His kind words and praise from earlier have left Itheus with a warm feeling in his chest. 

The two exit the lab together and head back up the stairs. Vesemir turns to Itheus as they reach the top step. “If you’d like, I can give you a tour of the castle. Show you which room you’ll be staying in?” He offers, gesturing to the rest of the castle.

“I’d like that a lot. Thank you again.” Itheus says, then follows Vesemir as he leads the way. 

Vesemir shows him around the first floor, gesturing to a large fireplace. “This is the largest of many fireplaces in Kaer Morhen. Every room has one, but this one heats the entire common area.” He says, then walks across the large room and stands between the wooden tables and what appears to be a kitchen of sorts. 

“Dining room tables are here, and the kitchen is over here. It’s quite large and fully stocked… You’d be surprised how much a keep full of Wolves eats in a winter. I’m the one who does most of the cooking, but the kitchen is always fair game.” Vesemir says with a chuckle, clearly enjoying showing Itheus around.

Itheus can feel Eskel and Lambert’s eyes on him as he follows Vesemir around, but he tries his hardest to ignore it. Subconsciously though, he shuffles closer to the older Witcher in an attempt to stay hidden.

Maybe Vesemir notices, because he quickly moves on from the kitchen after that. “From the kitchen we can take the stairs and go up to the second floor. The second floor is mostly bedrooms, but the library is also up here as well.” He says, guiding Itheus up the stairs. 

As they exit the stairwell, Vesemir gestures to a door. “To the right is a spare bedroom that isn’t currently in use.” He says, but then points across the hall at what appears to be three more bedrooms. “That one is Geralt and Jaskier’s. The one in the middle is Eskel’s, and attached to his room is Lambert’s.” Vesemir explains, then turns to the left.

“I doubt you care about whose bedroom is whose though. The real beauty of this floor is the library.” Vesemir says, opening the heavy wooden door and entering the room.

Itheus’s eyes widen as he takes in the vast array of books inside the library. There’s smaller chambers full of books within the walls, a large table with plush chairs, a couch, and astronomical equipment. They even have a telescope! “Wow.” Itheus says in amazement, looking up at the high shelves.

Vesemir chuckles. “A fellow bookworm, I see. Hopefully that means I won’t have to force you to do your readings like I did with the other ones. They were always too focused on the physical aspects of training.” He says half jokingly.

“Oh no, I love reading. You’d hardly have to force me. Books have a special place in my heart, especially ones I can learn things from. I actually brought a few with me in my pack… Though I hope you’ll allow me to browse your selection sometime.” Itheus says, feeling oddly at ease talking to Vesemir.

“That’s good to hear.” Vesemir says, then smiles at Itheus. “You’re free to use the library anytime and borrow any book you’d like. I just ask that you put them back in their proper places and clean up after yourself.” 

“That’s so kind of you, thank you Vesemir. I wouldn’t dream of leaving anything in your home a mess, I’ll be sure to clean up as though I was never there in the first place.” Itheus says, following Vesemir out of the library.

Vesemir smiles to himself, already enjoying the fact that he agreed to help Geralt train the boy. He’s so different from any Witcher or person Vesemir has met in his many, many years. Itheus is soft and kind, but possesses strong determination and immense raw power.

“Well then you’re already doing better than my boys. I still have to yell at them to clean up after themselves like I did when they were pups.” Vesemir says, then gestures to the room beside them. “Next to the library is the evening hall. It used to be a classroom and still has studying equipment in it, but since we don’t train classes of wolves here anymore, the boys turned it into a common room for this floor. It’s a mess right now, so we won’t go in there. I’ll make Lambert and Eskel clean it up, then you’re free to go in there whenever you please.” Vesemir says before walking further down the hallway. 

“Next to the Evening hall is the Armory. That’s where we keep weapons and other fighting equipment. We also use it as storage for practical classes and training equipment.” Vesemir explains, opening the door and letting Itheus look around.

“If we go back down the hall, across from the stairs we came up are the stairs to the third floor. That’s where the room you’ll be staying in is.” Vesemir explains, closing the armory door behind them and walking down the hall to the stairs. 

As they walk up the winding flight of stairs Vesemir says, “So Itheus, tell me about yourself. Geralt said you’re a sorcerer, did you study at Ban Ard?” 

Itheus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “No, I studied at Aretuza actually. My parents sent me away with Tissaia when I was two. I guess they weren’t prepared to raise a child with such… gifts.” He explains, shrugging it off.

“Aretuza…” Vesemir says, humming in thought. “Isn’t Aretuza a school for-” Itheus cuts him off. 

“Girls?” He finishes Vesemir’s question. “In a way, yes. I went into Aretuza a girl, but I left a boy. I graduated when I was twelve, excelled greatly in my studies. But I had always known that my body wasn’t right. So when it came down to the transformation ritual, I asked for the one thing I had always wanted. That they replace everything that made me female and make me male instead..” Itheus explains, telling Vesemir things about himself that he’s never told anyone.

Vesemir takes in all the information and just says, “It takes a mighty amount of strength to go through a change like that, I’m glad you got the appearance you always wanted.” He smiles, then opens the door to the bedroom.

In his years, Vesemir has met several people like Itheus. People who had their bodies magically altered to match what they knew deep down they should have always been. Many people look down on them and think they’re some form of evil, but Vesemir has always seen them the same as he sees everyone else.

They both enter the room and Itheus is taken by surprise at everything about the room. It’s  _ beautiful _ . The floor is polished and almost mirror-like. There’s several large, stained glass windows. There’s several shelves, wardrobes, and tables in the room as well. In the middle of it is a marble column which houses a large fireplace. Scattered across the floor are several rugs and furs. There’s even furs adorning the walls and the massive four poster bed.

“It means a lot that you say that. You’re the only person I’ve ever told, actually.” Itheus admits to Vesemir, then takes in the astonishing room. “Wow… it’s beautiful in here.” He says, running his hand over the marble fireplace. 

“Getting things off the chest is good for our state of mind.” Vesemir says, then furrows his brows. “How did you end up with the School of the Cat?” He asks, curious as to how Itheus went from one school to another. 

Itheus takes a deep breath. He should’ve seen that question coming. “Ah… the same as most do, I suppose. I went home to Willowhain after I left Aretuza, but my parents had split up in the ten years I was gone. My father was the one to keep our old house. He couldn’t deal with having another son instead of a daughter, blamed me for my mother leaving… so after a couple months, he loaded me up and dropped me off at Stygga. Guxart found me in the middle of a panic. It was so bad that I was making the whole castle shake. He said I was perfect for training… so that’s what happened.” He explains it all, slowly making his way over to the bed.

Itheus plops himself onto it without a sound. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about. Most people are too afraid to ask, so I don’t really get to talk about it much.” He says, looking up at the high ceiling.

Vesemir hums. “I do have a question about your eyes. Why is only one golden? I’ve never seen a Witcher without two golden eyes.” He asks, not wanting to offend Itheus.

“The same reason I have a white in my hair. During the trials, I showed a high tolerance for the mutagens they were subjecting me to. Most likely because of my elven blood. Because of my tolerance, they did more experiments on me. Developed stronger mutagens. Add that into being transported in the middle of that hell? Well, you get this. A runt with two different colored eyes and a Geralt colored streak in his hair.” Itheus explains, his voice clearly reflecting his disdain for the trials.

Vesemir almost feels bad for asking. He can tell Itheus has been through a great deal of pain. But at the same time, these are all things he needs to know to properly train him. “What trials did you go through?” He asks carefully, sitting next to Itheus on the bed.

Itheus closes his eyes and breathes for a few moments before opening them again. “The Choice, The Grasses, Dreams, Mountains, Tightrope…” He pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. “And the Sword.” He says, trying extremely hard not to think about it.

Vesemir can sense the remorse and bitterness creeping into Itheus’s scent, replacing the pleasant rosewater and peony with something more sour.

He can tell that whatever happened during the trials, especially the sword, Itheus still thinks about it and still blames himself. “Whoever initiated the Trial of the Sword knew what they were starting, Itheus. You survived and proved them wrong. That’s just part of the ritual.” Vesemir explains, hoping his words help even just a little.

Itheus sighs. “I know that, logically. But every kill that isn’t a monster weighs heavy on my conscience. I didn’t want to kill him, but they made me. The stupid fucking ritual made me kill one of our own.” He says, shaking his head. “I hate that this life is full of choices we don’t get to make for ourselves.”

Vesemir looks at Itheus with an expression the younger can’t quite place. “You sound a lot like Lambert. He talks a lot about how he hates having his choices taken away. You should talk to him after everyone gets settled in.” He says, smiling softly.

“If you need to freshen up, I can show you to the hot springs as well. I can find an extra pair of warm clothes for you if you need them.” Vesemir adds, standing up and moving towards the door. “I have a few things I need to do, but go ahead and get yourself settled before dinner.” He says before leaving Itheus in his room to unpack.

Itheus flops back onto the soft bed with a sigh.  _ How is this my life now? _ He asks himself, but finds that there’s really no regret in the thought. There are worse places to be, worse positions to be in. And well… he’s here with Geralt and Jaskier.

Geralt with his snowy hair and gorgeous amber eyes. Geralt with his strong body and perfectly defined muscles from years of training and fighting. Geralt with his stupid, yet oddly endearing “hmm’s” that Jaskier seems to always understand even though they all sound the same.

And Jaskier, oh Jaskier. With his cornflower blue eyes and sweet, melodious voice that could settle even the most violent of wars. Jaskier with his cute nose and his inane ability to both annoy someone and put a genuine smile on their face. Jaskier with his perfect words for every situation and his… Well, his perfect everything. 

They’re both perfect.

But Geralt and Jaskier are with  _ each other. _ So it doesn’t matter how badly he yearns to be the reason for both of their smiles, because they’ll  _ never  _ want him.  _ No one will _ , he thinks as he stares at the ceiling.  _ Why would they? They meet each other’s every need. And no one wants a mutated runt. A failed experiment that couldn’t even grasp the basics of being a Witcher. A coward.  _ Itheus continues thinking to himself, feeling his chest ache and his throat get tight.

_ It’s not fair. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not. If I had been given a choice, things would be different. If I hadn’t left Aretuza. If I had stayed like Tissaia asked me to. Maybe then I’d have a chance. Maybe then someone might, by the grace of the fucking gods, love me. But destiny doesn’t have love in the cards for me.  _

Itheus runs a shaky hand through his hair, then scrubs it over his face. He curses every god he can think of for coming out like this, an over emotional sad excuse of a Witcher. He takes a deep breath and stands up, conjuring his belongings at the foot of the bed.

It’s not much, but it’ll do. He takes the few books that he brought and puts them on the bookshelf by the door. His swords and dagger go on the table next to the bed.  _ Best to keep those close, just in case. _ He thinks, then crosses over to the other side of the room and places his clothes inside the wardrobe. His hair brush and soaps get placed on the vanity in front of one of the windows, and the last of his items stay inside his bag.

Once he finishes unpacking, Itheus looks over at his soaps.  _ I suppose I could use a hot bath _ . He thinks, padding over to the vanity and collecting his soaps.

When Itheus opens the door, there’s a stack of clothes and a towel at his feet. He smiles and feels a warmth rise in his chest. Collecting the items in the doorway, he makes his way down the stairs to the second floor. From there, he takes the stairs down to the kitchen where he finds Vesemir.

“Ah, I see you’ve decided to take up the hot springs offer. Smart boy.” Vesemir says as he moves around the kitchen, gathering ingredients for their dinner.

“Yes, I figured it’d be best to introduce myself to everyone when I don’t smell like I’ve been travelling for a week straight.” Itheus says with a chuckle. “Thank you for the clothes and towel, by the way.” He adds, smiling at Vesemir.

Vesemir pauses his hunt for ingredients and looks up. “I actually can’t take credit for those. Geralt found them and put them outside your door when I told him that I told you about the springs.” He says, then continues moving about the kitchen.

_ Huh. _ Itheus thinks, trying to ignore the bittersweet warmth he feels from Geralt’s gesture.  _ He didn’t mean anything by it. _ His brain tells him, convincing him that it was a platonic gesture and nothing more.

“If you go out the front door and around the right side of the castle, down a bit, you should find the springs just fine.” Vesemir says as he starts preparing water to boil.

Itheus turns and gets halfway to the door before his heart beating in his ears becomes too much and he portals out, leaving the smell of charcoal and peonies behind him.

“He’s an odd one.” Eskel says to Vesemir when Itheus disappears.

***

Itheus finds it much easier to breathe once he’s down by the springs, away from the eyes and ears of everyone else. He places his stack of clothes and his towel on the heated rock half-wall. He strips himself of his dirty, sweat covered clothes and puts them in a pile beside his fresh ones. His medallion is the only thing he doesn’t take off.

Slowly, he lowers himself into the hot water. He sighs, relaxing as the water engulfs his tense muscles. He didn’t realize just how badly he needed this. Itheus takes the leather tie out of his hair and lets it fall down before submerging himself completely. 

Itheus washes his hair after that, using the same rosewater soap that he’s used for years. He’s used it for so long that his natural scent has taken on hints of rosewater that never really goes away. He doesn’t really keep track of how long he bathes for, he just lets himself indulge in the hot water and enjoy something for once. 

After an unknown amount of time and after he has thoroughly washed himself, Itheus gets out of the spring and towel dries himself off. He dresses in the breeches and trousers left for him, barely getting the latter ones tied before he hears footsteps approaching.

When he looks up, he’s met with Lambert’s ruggedly handsome face. Itheus pauses, his shirt still folded in the pile.

“I didn’t realize there was already someone out here.” Lambert says gruffly, taking a few steps closer to Itheus.

“Oh, I was actually just finishing up. It’s all yours.” Itheus says meekly, intimidated by the ginger-haired Witcher before him. “You’re Lambert, I presume? I’m Itheus.” He asks, trying to make friendly conversation. 

Lambert looks Itheus up and down, noting the streak in his hair and his different colored eyes. Then he sees the medallion. 

Lambert’s expression shifts from neutral to something angry and spiteful as he keeps walking forward, backing Itheus into the stone wall. “I don’t care  _ who  _ or  _ what  _ you are or why you’re here. I don’t know why Vesemir is trusting you so easily, but I know how Cats like you are. I know what they did. And if you so much as step a hair out of line, I’ll snap your tiny neck like a twig.” He growls, towering over Itheus’s lithe, shirtless frame.

Itheus yelps as he’s backed into the wall, shaking as Lambert’s much larger and taller body looms over his. “Please don’t hurt me.” He says, his voice trembling with fear. His hands, resting by his side, are crackling with lightning. A telltale sign that his fear is reaching uncontrollable levels.

“I’m not like them. I haven’t- I haven’t hurt anyone. I didn’t do any of the things they did. I was just a  _ kid _ .” Itheus tries to explain, but can tell from the way that Lambert’s amber eyes are glowing with anger that he won’t get through to him.

Right as Itheus raises his hands to defend himself, Lambert is seemingly ripped away from him.

***

**Geralt**

“Where did Lambert run off to? And have you seen Itheus anywhere?” Geralt asks Eskel as he comes down from the stairs after unpacking his and Jaskier’s bags. 

Eskel stops reading and looks up from his book and at Geralt. “The Witchling portalled to the springs a while ago. Lambert went off that way a few minutes ago, why?” The dark haired Witcher asks, his voice level and calm as it usually is.

“Fuck.” Geralt growls, darting towards the door. He shoves the heavy doors open and doesn’t waste a second before running down to the springs, already knowing the way by heart. His boot-clad feet carry him faster than he’s run in a long time.

“Lambert!” Geralt yells when he reaches the two younger Witchers, finding Lambert growling at a terrified, shaking Itheus. He grabs Lambert by the back of his shirt and pulls him away from Itheus, forcing himself between the two to protect the younger man.

“This is  **_not_ ** how we treat guests at Kaer Morhen, Lambert. Go back inside and go wait in Eskel’s room.” Geralt practically growls, shoving him the direction of the door.

“But Geralt! He’s-’ Lambert protests.

“ _ Now _ , Lambert. Before I  _ make you _ .” Geralt threatens, his voice lowering an octave. The threat seems to work, because Lambert’s shoulders slump and he trudges back inside.

Geralt sighs and shakes his head, then turns around and looks down at Itheus. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all? If he did, I swear-” He asks, looking over Itheus’s face.

Itheus shakes his head and interrupts him. “No, no he didn’t hurt me. Just scared me is all.” He says, trying to reassure the older man.

“Hmm.” Geralt says (*Not convinced). He gently takes Itheus’s chin between his fingers and turns his head to the side, careful not to hurt him. He doesn’t see any injuries there, so he steps back a little and looks him up and down. He doesn’t see any fresh wounds, just scattered scars across Itheus’s arms and torso. Two of his scars stand out to him though, symmetrical ones right under his chest muscles. They’re light, most likely much older than all the other ones.  _ What monster leaves symmetrical wounds like that?  _ Geralt thinks to himself. 

Geralt realizes that this is the first time he’s seen Itheus in such a state of undress. And well… he’s not a bad sight. He’s built similarly to Jaskier, but he’s more toned.  _ They’d look nice next to each other.  _ His muscles are more defined. He’s got more hard lines, where Jaskier is softer. But years of travelling, fighting, and killing monsters tends to do that regardless of how big or small you are.

Geralt’s eyes and hands linger on Itheus for far longer than they should or need to before Geralt realizes. He looks back up at Itheus’s face and notices that the younger man is blushing a deep shade of pink. “Right, let’s get you inside. I’ll walk up to your room with you.” He says, pulling away from Itheus and trying not to watch as he finishes getting dressed.

_ He’s so pretty. I can see why Jaskier is always sketching him _ . Geralt thinks, and then it hits him. Him and Jaskier haven’t just been  _ appreciating  _ Itheus’s looks… they’ve been pining over him. Hard.

Itheus finishes getting dressed and starts walking back to the castle with Geralt. “Thank you, Geralt.” He hears the smaller man say softly, his cheeks still dusted pink. “For protecting me… and for the clothes.” Itheus says.

Geralt smiles despite himself. “You’re welcome.” He says, opening the door for Itheus. “I’m sorry about Lambert. He gets a bit… aggressive at times. That cutting tongue of his often gets him in trouble. But he’s not always like this. He’s had some bad experiences with members of the cat school that had a lasting effect on him. He’ll adjust with time though.” He explains as he walks up the winding stairs.

Itheus nods. “I understand that. I can’t blame him for it, really. He had no way of knowing that I’m not… like them. He saw my medallion and it probably brought back all of those memories. I had no idea… I hope he doesn’t hate me.” He says, which makes Geralt feel for him a bit.

_ Oh Itheus. Lambert’s feelings aren’t your fault. You did nothing wrong, Peony. _ Geralt thinks, then follows Itheus up the stairs to his room. “Lambert doesn’t hate you, Itheus. He just doesn’t understand, doesn’t know who you are. He’ll come around.” He explains, smiling softly at the man across from him.

“I need to go talk to him, but I hope I’ll see you downstairs for dinner.” Geralt adds before turning and leaving Itheus’s room.

Once he’s down the stairs and on the second floor, Geralt stops and calls out. 

“Jaskier, Eskel! I need to talk to you about something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vesemir says trans rights!! (And is glad to have a new pup to train)  
> Lambert is a bit angsty, but he'll come around... but likely not before his three lovers teach him a lesson about being polite.
> 
> Geralt, bless his heart, is realizing he has /more/ feelings.
> 
> And poor Itheus doesn't know what to do with any of this.


	5. I Reach For the Universe and Wait For It to Hold Me Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I scream  
> “Oh, what's the time, Mr. Wolf?"  
> But you, you're blind, you bleat, you bear your claws
> 
> Geralt’s jaw drops and he looks at Jaskier, who is looking at him with wide, shining eyes. It goes unspoken, but agreed between the two. There’s only one person that could be ‘Mr. Wolf'. 
> 
> Oh, and you rip my ribcage open  
> And devour what's truly yours
> 
> Jaskier and Geralt’s breath catches in their throats. They’re both holding their breath, too focused on the bittersweet masterpiece they’re hearing to do anything else. They both realize, but don’t know how to process that Itheus is singing about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dom/sub themes and collective thirsting between the Wolves. There are suggestive mentions, but nothing explicitly NSFW. Yet. (Hehe).

Jaskier and Eskel come jogging up the stairs moments later, looking at Geralt with equally confused faces. 

“What is so important that you had to drag us away from the very warm and cozy fire?” Jaskier asks, feigning annoyance. He’s not actually irritated, but he does enjoy giving Geralt a hard time.

“Are you always this bratty?” Eskel asks playfully, gently jabbing Jaskier with his elbow. “Speaking of brats, I saw Lambert storm up here earlier like someone had pissed on his pillow. What happened?” He says, concern replacing his previously confused expression.

“Yeah, I heard him mumbling something about Geralt.” Jaskier says to Eskel before turning and looking at Geralt. “What did you do to piss him off on our first day here?” He asks, putting his hands on his hips and giving Geralt an expecting look.

Eskel shakes his head at the bard’s attitude, smiling to himself.

“That’s actually why I called you two up here. To discuss what happened.” Geralt says, his voice level and calm. He gives Jaskier a look, smirking when the bard blushes and drops his dramatic attitude. “That’s what I thought. Good boy.” Geralt praises lowly, feeling a sense of satisfaction when Jaskier blushes darker and presses into Eskel’s side.

“Anyway. Eskel, I sent Lambert to your room because when I ran out to the springs he had Itheus backed against the wall, threatening to snap his neck if he stepped out of line. He was growling at him too, Itheus looked terrified. It could’ve gone a lot worse if I hadn’t gotten there when I did. I had to scruff him like a misbehaving pup.” Geralt explains, the disappointment clear in his voice.

Jaskier’s expression changes too, clearly upset by what he’s hearing.  _ Is Itheus okay? _ He immediately wonders. 

“You didn’t scruff him  _ like  _ a misbehaving pup. You scruffed him  _ because _ he’s being a misbehaving pup. I think the three of us need to have a chat with him.” Eskel says, wrapping one large arm around Jaskier’s shoulders.

“I think we should too, but we shouldn’t rush into a punishment just yet. Let him try to explain himself, and let Jaskier and I explain to him who Itheus is. I think he saw the Cat medallion and it… brought back some things for him. Be gentle but stern, is what I’m saying.” Geralt says, realizing that Lambert’s outburst was most likely emotionally charged.

Eskel nods and listens. He’s always been a good listener, which is probably why he serves as such a good buffer in their dynamic now. Him and Geralt are both dominant, yes. But without Eskel, Geralt and Lambert tend to butt heads. Lambert knows exactly what buttons to push to set Geralt off, but Eskel knows exactly how to placate both the White Wolf and the bratty pup that they all share.

“Gentle but stern is what I do, Geralt. Where would you two be if it weren’t for my inhumane ability to stay calm?” Eskel asks, smiling and chuckling softly.

“Probably ripping each other’s throats out. Or one of them getting their throat fucked…” Jaskier mumbles under his breath, which earns him a flick on the arm from Geralt. “Hey! You know I’m right!” He squeaks, rubbing his arm.

“Enough, enough. Don’t bruise our bard before we all get to have fun. Let’s go talk to Lamb, I’m sure he isn’t enjoying sitting in there alone.” Eskel says, proving once again that he is the more level-headed one. He opens the door to his bedroom and walks in with Geralt and Jaskier following suit.

Lambert, in all his disgruntled glory, is sitting on Eskel’s bed facing the wall. “I can hear you through the wall, y’know. Dumbfucks.” He grumbles, not moving to face any of them.

Geralt hums. “You’re already on thin ice from your outburst at the springs, I really don’t think you want to make it worse by cursing at us and calling us names.” He says, his voice soft but stern.

Lambert huffs and rolls his eyes, electing to ignore Geralt instead. “That’s what we’re here to talk to you about, Lambert. We’re not mad at you, we just want to know what happened and why. Can you tell us?” Eskel asks, sitting beside Lambert and keeping his voice soft as well. They have to tread carefully. Being too stern will make Lambert shut down, but being too soft will likely piss him off more and make him feel patronized.

“I’d be more willing to tell you if  _ someone  _ hadn’t been a bitch and sent me to your room.” Lambert growls, glaring daggers into the wall in front of him.

Geralt shakes his head. “And do you know  _ why _ I sent you up here, Lambert?” Geralt asks, his voice lowering slightly as he sits on the bed behind the younger man.

Lambert tenses, but ignores Geralt again. This does not go unnoticed by any of them. Geralt takes a breath and looks over at Eskel, who makes eye contact with him and nods. It’s one of those nights. One where Lambert isn’t going to go without a fight.

Eskel’s nod was all he needed. Geralt threads his fingers into Lambert’s hair and tugs, yanking his head back so he has to look at him. “I let the name calling slide because I knew you were upset, but you don’t get to behave like a disrespectful pup. You respond when spoken to, you know this.” Geralt says, his voice much more commanding than it was before.

Lambert whines, the sting in his scalp right on the border between pleasure and pain. His whine quickly shifts into a growl when he processes Geralt’s words. “Fuck off. You’re one to talk, Geralt. What’s disrespectful is disgracing our home with a fucking  _ Cat _ . A murderer.” Lambert practically spits, still clearly upset by Itheus’s presence.

Jaskier, knowing it’s not his time to do anything quite yet, cuddles himself into Geralt’s side and watches. He can’t help that watching the three of them interact is insanely attractive. “Do you know that for a fact, Lambert? Do you know that he’s the terrible thing you’re assuming?” Eskel asks, his voice not changing in volume or tone.

Geralt releases Lambert’s hair so he can look at Eskel, but the younger Witcher doesn’t. He’s insistent on playing the ignoring game. Eskel gives Lambert a few moments to respond but when he doesn’t, he leans over and wraps his hand around Lambert’s throat. “I asked you a question, pup. Be a good boy for us now.” He says, his voice gaining a slightly more stern undertone.

Lambert gasps when strong fingers tighten around his neck.  _ There it is. _ Geralt and Eskel think, knowing their lover’s resolve is starting to slip. “N-no.” The younger stutters out quietly, barely audible.

“No what?” Geralt whispers, his voice rumbling lowly into Lambert’s ear as he squeezes the back of his neck. 

Lambert whimpers and the tension visibly leaves his body as he submits. “No Sir. I- I don’t know it for a fact. But-” He finally cracks, melting into Geralt and Eskel’s touch.

“But you saw his medallion and assumed that he was like all of the others?” Geralt interjects, moving his hand up to run his fingers through Lambert’s hair. 

Lambert nods. “I couldn’t help but… but think of Aiden and what happened with the Wolves. And everyone was being so nice to him for  _ no reason _ . I shouldn’t have threatened him like that. I know that’s not how we treat guests… I didn’t mean to be bad, I’m sorry.” He says, averting his eyes to not meet Geralt or Eskel’s gaze. 

“Oh little Lamb, you weren’t bad. You were just remembering bad things that happened. You’re such a good boy for telling us, pup.” Eskel says, taking Lambert’s chin between his fingers and turning his head so that he’s looking at him. He places a gentle kiss to Lambert’s nose and lips.

Lambert whines softly, kissing Eskel back eagerly. 

“I think you owe someone an apology for calling him names.” Eskel says, tilting his head in Geralt’s direction.

Lambert pulls away from Eskel and scoots over towards Geralt. He looks down at his hands before sniffling and looking up at Geralt. “I’m sorry for calling you names and being disrespectful, Sir. I didn’t mean it… I was just upset.” Lambert says, biting his lower lip.

Geralt hums and pulls Lambert closer to him, gently pulling his lip from between his teeth with his thumb. “I understand and I forgive you, Lambert. Let’s just not let it happen again, okay?” 

Lambert nods, smiling when Geralt presses his lips to his own. “Okay, yes Sir.”

Jaskier sits up and shuffles closer, nudging his way under Lambert’s arm. “Geralt and I can explain who Itheus is if you would like? We’ve been travelling with him for some time now.” He says, running a gentle hand up and down Lambert’s thigh.

Lambert hesitates, but eventually says “I guess that would be fine. But don’t expect me to immediately like him after you tell me about him.” He says, his voice still soft with submission.

“We’re not asking you to like him. We’re just asking that you show him the respect you’d show any other guest that one would bring here.” Geralt says, then shuffles over to the middle of the bed. “C’mon. Everyone get up here.” He says, opening his arms for Lambert and Jaskier to cuddle into.

Eskel smiles and takes his spot beside Lambert, sandwiching him between himself and Geralt. 

Geralt looks over at Jaskier, kisses his forehead, and nods so he starts talking.

Jaskier smiles and looks over at Lambert and Eskel. “Itheus is a lot of things… He’s from the Cat school, yes. But he’s not a murderer. He’s young, Lambert. Younger than you, barely older than me. He’s not old enough to have taken part in the attack on the Wolf school.” Jaskier explains, his voice kind and soft.

Geralt picks up where Jaskier left off, seamlessly. “He was twelve during the grasses, when the attack happened. They had to transport him into the caravan, where they continued the trials. But like me, he showed a tolerance to the mutagens. So they did more experiments on him, which is why he’s so small. That’s also why his eyes are different colors and why he has a white streak in his hair.” He says, watching Lambert’s face as he processes the information.

Jaskier cuts in again. “The reason why he showed a tolerance is because he’s a quarter-elf. His father deserted him with the School of the Cat right after he graduated from mage school. His parents dropped him off at his first school when he was a baby, because they didn’t know how to raise a child with powers like his.” He says, feeling a twinge in his chest when he thinks about what Itheus has been through.

Lambert’s eyebrows furrow. “I… didn’t realize that he was deserted like that. Like us…” He says, looking down at his hands. “He didn’t have a choice either…” He adds, his voice much softer and quieter.

“He’s not evil. He’s just… lost. And very emotional. But he’s also honest and talented and kind. He always puts everyone before himself… even when doing so can get him killed.” Jaskier says, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“His mutations didn’t dull his emotions, they enhanced them. That mixed with his magic and inconsistent training… It means he needs our help. He relies too heavily on magic and his swords. He’s shit at hand to hand, and he never learned the signs. I tried to train him myself, but I don’t have the patience.” Geralt adds, fighting back the same fond smile as Jaskier. 

Eskel sits up and looks at Geralt with a raised eyebrow. “Hold on. The Witchling left his keep and set out on the Path without knowing the Signs? Or being able to fight? Geralt, we have to start training him first thing in the morning. It’s a fucking miracle that he hasn’t been killed yet.” He says, excitement clear in his voice as he talks about training Itheus.

“Not only did he leave without knowing them, he left when he was  _ eighteen _ . And I was going to ask if you’d be willing to help me. Vesemir already agreed, but I see there’s no need to ask you now.” Geralt says, chuckling at how easily Eskel assumes the “older wolf” role. 

Eskel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Eighteen? That’s  _ six years _ before it’s even allowed. No wonder he’s half-trained. Let me guess, he has no discipline or control either?” He asks, looking over at Geralt.

“That’s a hell of an understatement, Eskel. Last time we were training in hand to hand, he got so pissed that he used a spell to knock me off my feet and then portalled away.” Geralt says, shaking his head. 

Eskel huffs out a laugh. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a bit of a stubborn brat.” He says jokingly.

_ Oh.  _ Geralt thinks. And then,  _ Shit how did I not realize.  _ Leave it to Eskel to make him realize his newest travelling companion has likely been being extra stubborn because he’s an untamed brat. It all makes sense now that he thinks about it. Jaskier was the same way until he set boundaries and rules and made it clear who was in charge.

It must be written all over his facial expression or something, because Eskel seems to notice Geralt’s sudden revelation. “Me, you, and Jaskier can talk about that later.” he says, then turns to Lambert.

“Speaking of stubborn, you’re going to apologize to Itheus after dinner.” Eskel says, leaving no room for argument.

Lambert opens his mouth to do just that, but remembers what happened last time he tried to get out of a direct order. “Yes Sir…” He says with a sigh.

“Good boy.” Eskel and Geralt both say. 

“Now let’s go help in the kitchen. I imagine Vesemir will be yelling for us any minute now.” Geralt says, smiling softly at each of his partners.

“Jask, will you go upstairs and get Itheus?” Geralt asks, kissing him on the forehead.

Jaskier nods and smiles. “Of course!” He says cheerfully, standing as the rest of them get up to go set the table.

As the three Witchers go down to the first floor, Jaskier climbs the staircase to the room Itheus is staying in. He takes them quickly, subconsciously eager to see the man again. He reaches a slim, bird-boned hand out to knock but stops mid-way when he hears an unmistakable sound come from the room.

The sounds a bard knows all too well.  _ Singing. _ Curious, Jaskier quietly shuffles closer to the door, pressing his ear to the thick wood. He can make it out clearer than he thought he would.

_ But the wind has picked us up now _

_ We're hanging in the air _

_ And as you grip me like an animal _

_ That you're about to spear _

Jaskier has to stop himself from gasping, knowing Itheus would hear him without a doubt. He’s enamoured by Itheus’s singing upon hearing only the first verse that leaves his lips. His voice is hushed, whisper-singing in a way… But it’s beautiful. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d be wondering if this was some sort of siren song. 

_ "Be good to me, " I whisper _

_ And you say, "What?", and I said, "Nothing, dear" _

_ Can't you hear it? _

_ It can hear you _

_ It wants me to _

_ (Throw the plate at the wall) _

Itheus continues singing and Jaskier can’t do anything but listen. He’s not even moving. He realizes after a while that he isn’t breathing either, having to make himself not hold his breath. Itheus’s singing voice is deep and  _ smooth  _ and Jaskier feels as though he’s being lulled into some sort of dream-like trance.

_ I'm the paper cut that kills you _

_ I'm the priest that you ignored _

_ I'm the touch you crave _

_ I'm the plans that you made _

_ But fuck all your plans, I'm bored _

_ "And can't you hear that scratching?" _

_ I ask your eyes _

Itheus’s singing picks up in both volume and intensity. Jaskier can hear him much more clearly now and realizes that he’s singing a song that he’s never heard before.  _ Did Itheus write this himself? _ He thinks idly, listening even more intently.

_ I've got knuckle burn from writing all these lines into your chest _

_ And as the belt from your buckle is tightening _

_ I make shipwrecks out of my dress _

_ And the door below, it splinters _

_ And the creature creeps inside _

Jaskier feels  _ something _ in his chest tighten. The way Itheus is singing… it’s so intense and raw that it can only be coming from deep within his heart. There’s a passion in his voice that Jaskier has seen even the most seasoned of musicians struggle to achieve. It’s a level of emotion that one can only reach if they’ve felt it first hand.

Jaskier almost jumps out of his skin when a hand lands on his shoulder, pulling him out of his song induced reverie. He looks back and sees Geralt standing behind him, about to say something. Jaskier’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, holding his index finger to his lips.

Geralt’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything. Jaskier points to his ear, then to the door. The older man moves across from him and leans his head against the door silently. 

_ And we fall into each other _

_ The scratching grows so loud _

_ Because that unwanted animal _

_ Wants nothing more than to get out _

Geralt hears Itheus almost as clearly as he would if the door were open. His eyes widen when he hears the melodic words flowing so seamlessly. He had no idea Itheus could sing. Let alone sing so beautifully.  _ Jaskier and Itheus should sing together. _ Geralt thinks, having no idea where that thought came from.

_ And I scream _

_ “Oh, what's the time, Mr. Wolf?" _

_ But you, you're blind, you bleat, you bear your claws _

Geralt’s jaw drops and he looks at Jaskier, who is looking at him with wide, shining eyes. It goes unspoken, but agreed between the two. There’s only one person that could be ‘Mr. Wolf”. 

_ Oh, and you rip my ribcage open _

_ And devour what's truly yours _

Jaskier and Geralt’s breath catches in their throats. They’re both holding their breath, too focused on the bittersweet masterpiece they’re hearing to do anything else. They both realize, but don’t know how to process that Itheus is singing about  _ them. _

Itheus’s voice dies down a bit, but he continues on by humming. This solidifies Jaskier’s theory that Itheus wrote it himself, because it’s almost as if he’s humming to replace lyrics he hasn’t written yet.

_ "Be good to me " I beg of them _

_ "Be good to me," I beg of them _

_ Be good, be good, be good _

_ Be good, be good, be good, be good _

_ And they reply (Oh) _

_ "No, no, not I" _

There’s nothing but silence between the two men outside the door while Itheus hums, gradually getting louder and more emotional. Geralt and Jaskier are both taken by mild surprise when the young Witcher starts singing again.

This time, his singing is faster. It’s even more raw and almost  _ pained _ , they both realize. Jaskier covers his mouth with his hand, looking up at Geralt with wet eyes that are shining for a completely different reason. Geralt swallows and his jaw tenses.  _ Fuck. _ Is all he can think in the moment.

They wait until there’s silence on both sides of the door to move. Geralt lifts his hand and knocks on the door. Jaskier stays still, not trusting his body or voice to do anything else. His hands are shaking and Geralt notices, so he takes one of Jaskier’s hands in his own and threads their fingers together.

There’s a scrambling from the other side of the door and then a soft voice calls out, “Yes? It’s unlocked.” 

Geralt opens the door and is met with a sight that makes his heart skip a beat. Itheus is sitting on the bed with his hair down and loose near his shoulders, wearing Geralt’s old clothes that he offered to him that are still several sizes too big. He knows that since he offered, it was likely that Itheus would accept… but actually  _ seeing  _ him wearing them fills Geralt with what he refuses to accept as  _ possessiveness. _

Jaskier coughs when Geralt is silent for too long. “Right, sorry. Uh, dinner is ready if you’re hungry.” He says curtly, turning to go back down the stairs.

Jaskier smiles at Itheus and definitely doesn’t look at the delicate collarbones peeking out of his long sleeve shirt that is clearly way too big. “Even if you’re not hungry, it’d probably be a good idea to still come down. Otherwise Papa Vesemir will come up here and mother hen you.” He chuckles.

“Trust me, I made the mistake of declining breakfast the first morning I was here and he followed me around the rest of the day trying to give me food.” Jaskier adds, smiling again.

Itheus chuckles lightly. “I can probably eat. I’ll come down with you two.” He says, getting up from the bed and walking over to the door. 

Despite turning around, Geralt didn’t actually walk down the stairs. When Itheus gets closer, Geralt can smell the salt from the tear tracks on his face. Something about knowing that Itheus was crying makes Geralt’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

Itheus, for what it’s worth, tries his best to mask his apprehension about eating dinner with all of the Wolves (and Jaskier). It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that he feels incredibly out of place. Like an unwanted animal that has snuck its way into a home through a backdoor that was accidentally left unlatched.

Regardless, he follows Geralt and Jaskier down the stairs to the second floor and then again down to the kitchen. He doesn’t want to be impolite or come off as rude.

When the three of them reach the table, Lambert and Eskel are setting the last of the plates of food down. “It took you long enough! What happened, y’get lost?” Eskel asks jokingly as he sits down at the large dinner table.

Jaskier chuckles awkwardly. “Uh no, didn’t get lost. Geralt and I just got distracted is all.” He answers, sitting down at the table and next to Geralt.

Eskel hums and nods.

“Oh I see… ‘distracted’ you say.” Lambert says with a smirk, side eyeing the two of them. 

Eskel glares and flicks Lambert on the back of the head. “Shut up, Lambert. Don’t be an ass.” He says with humor in his voice.

“Hey! What the fuck was that for?” Lambert says, turning around to flick Eskel back.

“Boys, enough. You’re just going to embarrass yourselves in front of our guest.” Vesemir says, gesturing to Itheus who is sitting towards the end of the table with his arms around himself. 

“Itheus, I’m glad you’re eating dinner with us. Little thing like you needs to eat as many meals as he can. Has Geralt not been feeding you properly?” Vesemir says, and Itheus sees exactly what Jakier meant by ‘mother henning.’

Itheus looks up sheepishly. “I don’t rely on anyone for food but myself, sir. I eat regularly and fairly proportionately… I hate to disappoint, but my size is permanent.” He says, looking down at the table to hide his embarrassment. 

Geralt shakes his head, but Eskel is the one to speak up. “Leave the poor Kotek alone, Vesemir. He’s already shaking like a leaf.” The dark haired Witcher says.

Itheus’s expression shifts from embarrassed to confused.  _ Kotek. _ He repeats in his head.  _ What the hell does that mean?  _ He thinks, glancing up at Eskel before quickly looking away again.

“It’s okay, really. I’m used to people commenting on my size. I know it’s… unusual for a Witcher to be this small.” Itheus says, not wanting Vesemir to feel like he has to walk on eggshells because of him.

Lambert laughs, banging his fist on the table. “Unusual? More like damn near impossible! It’d take a hell of a mutation to come out smaller than a  _ bard. _ ” He says, looking from Itheus to Jaskier.

Geralt and Eskel both glare warningly at Lambert. They’re both about to say something when Jaskier interjects.

“I for one, think your size makes you even  _ cuter.  _ You’re the perfect size, in my opinion.” Jaskier says, smiling when Itheus’s cheeks flush pink and he looks down at the table. 

_ Did he just call me cute?  _ Itheus thinks, chewing on his bottom lip.  _ No, surely he was just saying it to be nice. To change the subject.  _

There’s an awkward silence before Vesemir sits down and says, “Well what are we waiting for? Let’s eat!”

Lambert and Eskel are quick to grab their plates and start spooning food onto them. Geralt makes Jaskier’s plate for him first, which earns him a soft “thank you, love” as he makes his own plate. 

Itheus, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, decides to wait until everyone has gotten their food to get his. 

Geralt glances down the table and notices Itheus sitting there, separated from everyone else and curled in on himself, shaking like Eskel said. He grabs the extra plate and puts food on it for him, then sets it aside and stands up. He goes over to the couch in front of the crackling fireplace and grabs one of the extra furs. He grabs it and walks back over to Itheus in a few long strides, then places the fur around his shoulders.

“You know if you’re cold, you could have just said that.” Geralt says, his voice soft and warm like the fur he just wrapped around the smaller man.

“Didn’t want to bother anyone.” Itheus mumbles, still chewing on his lip. “But thank you, Geralt.” He says, giving him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Geralt nods and slides Itheus his plate of food. “You’re welcome. We can’t have our guest freezing to death, now can we?” He says lightheartedly, but his tone only makes Itheus’s heart ache more.

They all start eating after Geralt sits back down. Itheus does eat a decent portion of his meal, but he does a better job at picking at it to make it look like he’s eating the whole time that they are. He can’t help it, really. His head and heart are thinking way too fast and every time he hears Geralt or Jaskier speak, his chest and throat feel uncomfortably tight. 

Eventually, somehow, the conversation makes its way to him.

“So Itheus, Geralt tells me that we’ll be helping you train?” Eskel says, looking down at Itheus who is pushing the last of his food around his plate.

Itheus looks up this time, but doesn’t make eye contact. “Oh, yeah. Just in hand to hand and the Signs. Well… and other things, I suppose. Geralt says I lack discipline and control. He tried to train me on his own, but I guess I’m too difficult…” He says, trying to laugh it off at the end. 

Eskel chuckles heartily. “Nonsense! You’re not too difficult, Geralt was just a stubborn arse who thought that he could train someone on his own. Training like that takes multiple mentors. But luckily for the lot of you, the signs are like second nature to me.” He says, grinning at Itheus, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Itheus tilts his head, then blinks a few times as he processes. “You’ll… you’ll help teach me? I’m not… too much?” He asks, finally making eye contact with Eskel. Now that he’s looking at his face, Itheus realizes how handsome Eskel is. How handsome all of them are. (Even Vesemir, in his own Papa Wolf way). 

“Of course we will! It won’t be much different from the training we do outside every day anyway, just more in depth. And I promise, if Lambert’s punk ass isn’t too much… you definitely aren’t.” Eskel says, then looks at Lambert. “Speaking of Lambert, he’s actually going to be one of the ones training you in hand to hand combat.” He adds.

“I am?” Lambert asks, making a face as he looks at Itheus and then back at Eskel. Eskel elbows him in the side, making him yelp. “I mean, uh. Yeah! I am… I guess.” He says, clearly not thrilled about it.

Itheus swallows thickly.  _ The guy who threatened to snap my neck earlier is going to be teaching me how to fight? Fuck. _ He thinks, already thinking of ways he could defend himself.

“Yep, with Geralt of course. But Lambert is the most skilled at hand to hand out of all of us.” Eskel says, which makes Lambert beam at the praise.

“I’m actually looking forward to sword training with you, Itheus. Geralt told me you’ve got skills that rival only my own. I said that we’ll just have to see about that.” Eskel adds, winking at Itheus. The gesture flusters the younger man, causing him to bite his pink bottom lip again.

The Wolves (and Jaskier) seem to be enjoying watching Eskel make Itheus blush and squirm, because they’ve all got amused half-smirks on their faces. 

Not that Itheus notices this, anyway. He’s too busy looking away, his thoughts drifting to the fact that Geralt praised his skills to someone else. 

“Well, we should probably clean all this up and then head upstairs for the night. First day of training starts bright and early tomorrow, and everyone needs a good night’s sleep before that.” Geralt announces, standing up with Jaskier practically attached to his hip. He looks over at Itheus. “Yes. Even you, Kotek.” He says with an amused smirk.

_ There’s that word again. _ Itheus thinks, wondering why he’s being called that again. Despite his confusion, he nods and stands up with the fur still around his shoulders. 

“Thank you so much for the dinner, everyone. It was very lovely. Do you need any help cleaning up?” Itheus asks, because he’d feel guilty if he didn’t help in some way.

Vesemir quickly shakes his head. “No no, you’re our guest. You don’t do the cleaning up, the same way Jaskier doesn’t. The boys will take care of it.” He says, smiling kindly. Jaskier and Itheus both try to protest, but Vesemir holds up a hand that shushes them both.

“Go on now, retire to your rooms. The rest of us will be up after we finish.” Geralt says, using the same tone that he uses whenever Jaskier tries to argue with a command. 

Inaudibly to anyone without enhanced Witcher hearing, Itheus whimpers. It’s a very short, high pitched sound… but it’s there. And they all hear it, except for Jaskier. But he can see how Itheus’s body language changes from Geralt’s tone alone. 

“Yes Sir.” Jaskier says, being sure to watch how Itheus reacts to the words. Just as he suspected, the young Witcher blushes and immediately starts making his way up the stairs. 

Once he’s far enough up the stairs that he’s sure Itheus won’t hear him, Eskel looks at Geralt. “Isn’t he the sweetest thing? I wonder how far that rosy pink blush of his spreads.” He says, smirking at the thought.

Surprisingly, Lambert is the next one to speak. “Did you see how he reacted to Geralt’s command? I bet it wouldn’t take much to drop him to his knees. I’m betting right now that he’s even more submissive than Jaskier.” He says cockily, more than willing to indulge in the thought.

The other three look at Lambert incredulously, confusion mingling in their expressions.

“What? Just because I don’t trust him doesn’t mean I can’t think he’s a pretty boy that would look good on his knees.” Lambert says, and Geralt tries his hardest not to think about exactly that.

He tries, albeit unsuccessfully. He looks over at Jaskier, who seems to be thinking about it too, judging by the way he’s biting his lip with slightly glazed eyes.

Eskel clears his throat. “Maybe we shouldn’t thirst after the Witchling on his first night here, just a thought. At least wait until  _ after _ he’s acclimated.” He says, narrowing his eyes at his three partners.

Geralt scoffs. “Oh please, Eskel. Don’t get high and mighty on us now.  _ Kotek _ , seriously? You’re lucky he doesn’t know that you called him Kitten to his face.” He says, choosing to ignore the fact that he called Itheus that himself as well.

“Leave that talk for upstairs. This table isn’t going to clean itself.” Vesemir cuts in, putting an end to their conversation. 

Geralt turns to Jaskier. “Weren’t you told to go upstairs?” He whispers in his ear, his voice low and gravelly. He gives Jaskier’s round ass a swat, causing the younger man to squeak and scramble up the stairs to their shared room. 

And just like that, they’re all doing their own things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho how the turns have tabled! 
> 
> Itheus can sing? AND writes ballads about Geralt and Jaskier? You bet, and there's more where that came from! (Look, I'm never going to stop using TAD lyrics in Witcher fics). 
> 
> Everyone has feelings for everyone? Also yes. They all want to get their hands on the Witchling, some of them just have more self restraint than others.

**Author's Note:**

> If you got this far, thank you for reading! 
> 
> This is the end of chapter one, but don't fret! There will be more chapters to come!
> 
> I just gotta say,,, Jaskier is an amazing voice of reason and also... Geralt would be a great mentor.
> 
> Also also, Itheus is baby.


End file.
